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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382876">Boys Don't Cry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo'>DynamicDuo (XylB)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blowjobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Happy Ending, M/M, Marathon Sex, Porn With Plot, References to Addiction, Sex, Trans Jason Todd, Trans Male Character, slight and brief dysphoria, the briefest of panic attacks, who said romance was dead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:16:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>49,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29382876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy comes to Gotham to follow up a lead from the Titans, and runs into Jason. This wouldn't usually be a problem - Jason's a vigilante, technically, on paper, and it's not the first time he's paired up with a random hero to solve a common problem. </p><p>The problem is that Jason doesn't usually develop <em>feelings</em> for his partners, and he <em>definitely</em> doesn't usually sleep with them. </p><p>And they certainly don't usually reciprocate.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Roy Harper/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Incest shippers do not interact.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Usually, Jason doesn't take much stock in people hanging around the streets near his apartment, half because they're usually just civilians and half because he is more than capable of protecting himself. </p><p>But this time, he passes the person leaning against the brick and heads up the stairs to his door, and then stops, turning back to look at them. </p><p>"What," he deadpans. The guy looks up from his crossed arms, a smirk plastered on his face. </p><p>"Nothin'," he replies, but there's not <em>nothing</em> about a man standing outside his apartment with a bow and arrows on his back. </p><p>"Am I supposed to know you?" Jason asks, looking over the guy's outfit. Red and black and topped off with a stupid-looking backwards cap sunk low on his head, goggles shoved up over it. He looks familiar, in a hazy sort of way. </p><p>"Aw, c'mon, you don't recognise me?" He asks, spreading his hands. Jason studies him for a moment longer - red, bows and arrows, god, he <em>knows</em> this, he's never met the man but he's seen him on the news, it's - </p><p>"Speedy," he drawls, crossing his arms. "So you're part of Dickie's little group. Did he send you to check on me?" </p><p>Speedy barks out a laugh. "Just because he's the oldest doesn't mean he calls the shots." He runs a thumb over his mouth and grins. "And it's Arsenal now. But <em>you</em> can call me Roy." </p><p>"What are you doing here," Jason says, doesn't ask. "I didn't <em>kill</em> anyone tonight, if that's what you want." </p><p>"Hey, I'm not here for anything," Roy says, holding his hands up in surrender. "No one sent me." He looks Jason up and down, slow, <em>salacious</em>, and is the man goddamn <em>checking him out</em>? </p><p>"I'm based around here nowadays," Roy continues, as if he didn't just give Jason a cool, thorough once-over. "Came by to offer my help. We could team up." </p><p>"If you want a team-up, you've got the wrong brother," Jason says, and fishes out his keys to unlock his door. He smiles, huffs out a laugh to himself, and glances over at Roy, still regarding him with that steady, unflinching gaze. It's, okay, it's a little up Jason's alley, the fingerless gloves and the leather and the bare arms, sue him. </p><p>"You collared or microchipped?" He asks. "Y'know, so Dickie can pick you up. Or do I need to take you to a vet first?" He lets his eyes linger on Roy's mouth when it curves into a smile, then a laugh, and drags his gaze slowly back up to Roy's eyes, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>"I'm not collared," Roy says. His smile turns wicked. "Not yet, anyway." Oh, the cockiness is <em>definitely</em> up Jason's alley. </p><p>"Duly noted." Jason opens his door and pauses. "It's still a no on that team-up." </p><p>"Well, if you want me, just whistle," Roy says, and lowers his hands to push off of the wall, ready to leave. He adjusts the cap and smirks up at Jason. "You know how to whistle, don't you?" </p><p>Jason leans against his doorframe and drops his eyes down, drags them back up, actually allowing himself to admire the strong angles of Roy's body, the way his arms flex when he drops them by his sides again, one snaking around to his back to grip the bow. </p><p>"Put my lips together and blow?" Jason says, and lifts a hand to run a thumb over his bottom lip, deliberate, slow, watching at Roy's eyes track the movement. "I've heard I'm good at that." </p><p>"You'll have to show me sometime," Roy replies, locking eyes with Jason once more. He's still smiling, just the edge of a smirk cutting into his cheek, and wow Jason hasn't had much opportunity for anything in the past few years but this seems almost too much opportunity now. </p><p>"Maybe I will," Jason replies, about five times smoother than he feels, and Roy laughs, low and deep and <em>doing </em>things to Jason's guts. </p><p>"I look forward to it," Roy says, and salutes him with two lazy fingers before bringing the bow around and notching an arrow; he shoots it into a tall building across the road, a rope trailing after it, and Jason watches with cool disinterest as Roy pulls his goggles down and wraps the other end of the rope around his wrist. </p><p>Roy tugs, and the rope suddenly goes taut and pulls at him - he's off running, and jumps, and then he's whizzing up to the heights of the skyscraper rooftop while Jason watches, landing with a neat roll and taking off. </p><p>Jason laughs to himself, despite everything, and disappears inside his apartment. </p><p>-- </p><p>It's only fitting, really, that the next time he runs into Roy is during a fight. He's brawling with a group of thugs, dodging punches and unloading clips of ammo into shoulders and knees to keep them down when they get too bold - and it's just after he shoves a guard onto the ground that an arrow whizzes by him to embed in the lady's shoulder, making her shout in pain and writhe on the asphalt. </p><p>"Hey," Roy says, landing beside him with a cocky grin, as usual. Jason's almost grateful for the helmet, then, to hide his instinctive smile. </p><p>"I don't need your help," he says instead, injecting a growl into his voice. He spins and thumps his elbow into another guard's sternum, winding him in one easy go; someone grabs at his ankle and Jason kicks out to his left without looking, follows it with a wide, telegraphed swing that is predictably blocked. </p><p>"Maybe I was just looking for a little fun," Roy says, and on the other side of the street, Jason can hear him fighting, thuds and grunts punctuated by the <em>twang</em> and <em>whish</em> of the bow - Roy leaps deftly out of the way of a punch and sinks an arrow between the man's knuckles instead. The thug howls and stumbles backwards, snapping the arrow off and swiping madly for a weapon on his friend's unconscious body. </p><p>There's sirens in the distance, rapidly approaching. </p><p>"What's this about?" Roy asks when he dances closer to Jason again, levelling his bow and aiming the arrow into someone's shoulder with a wet <em>thunk!</em>. </p><p>"Drugs," Jason grunts, gesturing to the busted car spun out to the side of the road, tyres shot out. He ran into these guys on foot, so he doesn't have an easy escape, which sucks, but if he takes off before the sirens get too close he can probably put some good distance between him and some unfriendly cops. </p><p>"Beating up the local weed dealer?" Roy jokes. "Bit tight ass for you, Hood." </p><p>"It's coke," Jason answers shortly. "And they were prowling at the high school."</p><p>"Okay, I take it back, that's fucked up." Another arrow, another shout, and Jason slams the heel of his hand into someone's jaw just as the sirens round the corner, blaring red-white-blue. Jason growls and grabs Roy's wrist, kicking another dealer in the chest before tugging Roy away from the fight. </p><p>"C'mon, we need to go," he says to Roy's confused face. </p><p>"We're <em>helping</em> them," he says, but doesn't fight Jason's hold, twisting instead to stumble beside him. Bullets ping at their feet. </p><p>"Stop with your hands up!" Uniform calls. </p><p>"Yeah, they're not really a fan," Jason replies, and leads Roy down the nearest alleyway, bullets ricocheting off the walls as police chase after them. </p><p>"Jesus Christ, are they trying to <em>kill</em> you?" Roy keeps tight to the corners with him, boots slapping against broken concrete, against storm drains. </p><p>"Something like that." Jason glances over at him. "Trust me?" </p><p>"Yeah." </p><p>Jason takes Roy's arm again and tugs him sharply to the side, then down a couple more narrow shortcuts - the police footsteps get farther away, then, but still following, thudding around the wider alleyways, around the shortcuts. They've got a few seconds before they catch up to them. Jason skids to a stop behind a Chinese restaurant, abruptly pushing Roy into the alcove that surrounds the back door. Just a few metres away, beyond the mouth of the alley, there's civilians, and on their other side, the police, and if they think they've disappeared into a crowd it'll be much harder to track them - but if they <em>do</em> go into the crowd, witnesses can easily pinpoint the location of a guy in a red helmet and someone with a bow. </p><p>"Wh - " Roy starts, but shuts up when Jason rips his helmet off, then shrugs off his jacket, tying it around his waist to hide the holsters on his thighs, and he's <em>really</em> hoping this is dark enough to hide the tips of Roy's bow and quiver on his back as he crowds him against the dingy metal door, discarding the helmet into a dry corner - </p><p>"Still trust me?" Jason asks, ruffling the back of his hair as the footsteps thunder closer. There's indecent space between him and Roy, thighs and hips pressed together and surely Roy can see where this is going, surely he can figure it out without Jason having to say it. </p><p>Roy plucks his hat from his head and slams it onto Jason's head, forward-facing, discards the goggles into the same corner as the helmet, and tugs on Jason's arms to squeeze them together more fully, lips landing on Jason's cheek. Somewhere in the muss, Roy tugs off his gloves and tucks them into Jason's waistband, then runs his hands around to Jason's back, tips his head to the left, and Jason closes the gap between them, kissing just to the side of Roy's mouth in some attempt at decency. </p><p>Roy ruins it by turning his head to kiss him properly, gripping and grabbing at Jason's hair, his back, his hips, his ass, blending them into the darkness of the alcove as Jason groans into the kiss and touches him back, flattens his hands over the red parts of Roy's outfit to hide them, digs his fingers into armour lining - Roy spreads his legs to let Jason shove up a thigh between them, god, this is more than toeing the line of just hiding from the police, although he guesses it <em>could</em> be considered a disguise. Well, up until he <em>moves</em> his leg up another inch and Roy grunts, and his hips roll back down, and now Jason's blown right past disguise and into genuine making out at the backdoor of a takeout restaurant. </p><p>It pays off, actually. The police sprint right past them, radios squeaking and garbling, and Jason hears the confusion of the crowd peak and then calm again, when the cops have moved on. </p><p>"Didn't know you were a celebrity around here," Roy says, an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. He doesn't let go of Jason, though. </p><p>"You think they'll stop if I give them an autograph?" This close, Jason's words end up pressed into Roy's mouth, barely half an inch between their lips, and Jason doesn't make a move to step away. Roy laughs, low and husky. </p><p>"How close is your place?" He asks, tilting his head to brush their lips together again. Sparks skitter over Jason's skin at the contact. </p><p>"What?" </p><p>Roy just <em>laughs</em> again, lips twitching against Jason's to curve into a smile. </p><p>"Why?" Jason murmurs, although he's already mapping out a route in his head, weaving over rooftops and under bridges. </p><p>Roy grinds down deliberately against his leg and it's only then that Jason realises it's not the firmness of a <em>cup</em> he's feeling under that outfit. </p><p>"I don't know how to make it any more obvious that I'm trying to get my guts rearranged in your bed," Roy says, his voice edged raspy. It thoroughly derails Jason's mapped route, makes him suppress a hot shiver that suddenly ripples through him. He swallows thickly. </p><p>"Are you sure?" </p><p>Roy pulls back a little to look him in the eye, but there's still a playful smile on his face. </p><p>"Unless I misread," he says slowly, "and you're not much of a pitcher." </p><p>Jason laughs at that, a sound caught in the back of his throat, and presses Roy to the door just a little harder, nudging his leg up. </p><p>"Oh, I'm all-star, baby," he teases, and doesn't miss the flicker of <em>something</em> that passes over Roy's face. Roy hikes his thigh up between Jason's legs, except Jason <em>does</em> wear a cup. Although for slightly different reasons. Roy huffs when he bumps into it. </p><p>"All work and no play in this getup, huh?" He murmurs, and kisses him, slower now, filthier, teeth scraping over Jason's lower lip. His hands travel south to Jason's belt and slide underneath it, just his fingers, in a tease before he withdraws, pulling out his gloves on the way back. </p><p>"So, what's the quickest way back?" He asks. </p><p>-- </p><p>They don't get far into the apartment before falling into each other again. Roy gets him against the back of the front door, hands running underneath the jacket, over the armour, while Jason reaches behind himself to lock the door with one hand and drops the helmet with the other. Roy shrugs off the quiver and the bow and snaps off the goggles and stupid hat, discarding it all to the floor. He starts to work on the gloves but Jason pulls him back in with a growl and slides his hands down to squeeze Roy's ass. </p><p>"Keep the gloves on," he says - Roy laughs breathlessly and nods, looping an arm around Jason's neck to kiss him again, messier than before, and Jason's knees go weak against his front door. His jacket thuds to the floor, heavy with ammo, and the torso armour follows soon after, leaving just the Kevlar lining on him. The gloves land in a heap on the jacket. </p><p>Before they can get too carried away here, Jason frames his hands on Roy's hips and pushes him back, then pulls him back in when he steps away from the door, turning them to clumsily lead them to the sofa and dropping down onto it with a grunt. Roy climbs onto his lap almost effortlessly, knees clamped to - shit, Jason almost forgot about the guns. He hurriedly takes them out of the holsters and tosses them behind Roy to land on the coffee table somewhere. Roy runs a hand through his hair and kisses at his jaw, scoots up closer when Jason urges him to, tipping his head to kiss Roy on the mouth, panting at the weight of him on his lap, at the way Roy's hips twitch forwards between his hands. </p><p>Roy's hands fall to Jason's waistband again, whipping the belt out of its buckle, and Jason barely gathers enough breath to speak before pausing Roy's movements with a loose grip on his wrists. </p><p>"Wait," he rasps, then clears his throat, but keeps his eyes closed, his lips barely an inch from Roy's. </p><p>"What?" Roy sounds genuine with it, patient, as if he's not already hard and panting on Jason's lap. It's commendable, honestly. </p><p>"There's kinda something I have to tell you." Jason swallows thickly. He probably should have done this earlier, or maybe in the alleyway, or maybe before that, huh, before he ever even pushed Roy into that dingy alcove. </p><p>"Will it stop us moving past first base?" Roy jokes when Jason takes too long to follow up his statement. Jason huffs out a humourless laugh between them. </p><p>"That depends on you," he says. Roy pulls back another inch more, enough to look him in the eye. Jason briefly searches his eyes, but for what, he doesn't know. Nothing will tell him the answer he needs to know. </p><p>"How much has Dick told you about me?" He asks. Roy's eyebrows pull together, confused. </p><p>"Uh, you're...bilingual," Roy says, puzzled. </p><p>"I'm bi-a lot of things," Jason jokes weakly. Roy cracks a smile at it. Then smooths a thumb over Jason's hip. </p><p>"Jason, what is it?" He asks, soft and genuine and <em>honest</em>. Jason sucks in a shaky breath and closes the gap between them a little more, shutting his eyes again. </p><p>"I'm trans," he mumbles. He can feel Roy's smile brush against his lips. </p><p>"Awesome," Roy says, and kisses him. Jason makes a confused little <em>huh?</em> sound. Roy's breath puffs out over his cheek. </p><p>"You're not the first trans person I've slept with," Roy answers, and brushes their lips together. "Just tell me what the play is, <em>all-star</em>." </p><p>"Did you play baseball in high school or something?" Jason asks, a smile growing on his face. </p><p>"I was a catcher in college," Roy replies, and smirks. "But I never played baseball." He ghosts his hands down to Jason's fly, knuckles brushing over the bulge of the cup. "What's the play, captain?" </p><p>Jason laughs, cups the back of Roy's neck and kisses him. "I'll tell you on the way." </p><p>Roy nods and gets back to work on Jason's trousers, popping the button and gliding down the zipper with deft fingers - he pauses over the cup, and Jason nods, and Roy slips inside the fly of his underwear to remove the plastic, then makes a curious noise in the back of his throat when he feels the silicone left behind, bent askew now from the removal. </p><p>"Thought this wasn't your first rodeo," Jason teases, lifting his hips up. Roy laughs into his mouth and fixes his packer for him, settling it back inside the fly. </p><p>"Wasn't expecting you to be wearing it on a job," he says, and pauses again. "What do you want me to do?" </p><p>Jason swallows, flexes his fingers on Roy's hip. "I like to keep it on," he murmurs. His cheeks burn. "I want - I want you to touch it. Me." </p><p>Roy seems to understand what he's not quite saying. He curls his fingers around the shaft and strokes up, slow. Jason can feel the movement against his skin, hot, arousing, and he groans a little to let Roy know he's on the right track. </p><p>"What about - " Roy licks his lips, seemingly searching for words, "y'know, about underneath?" </p><p>"Not yet." Jason doesn't really know how to explain what he likes in bed - it's tricky to word, and he hasn't exactly had much chance to do anything like this. Sure, he did some things when he was in Ma Gunn's, but that was nothing more than first kisses and half-hearted fumbles in dim-dark bedrooms. And post-Pit, he's only tried a few times to get laid - one ended up as a unreciprocated blowjob in an alleyway that left his jaw aching pleasantly, and the others ended up actually getting him off, albeit clumsily and drunkenly and nowhere near as satisfying as Jason's own right hand. </p><p>"I haven't actually - done a lot of this before," Jason admits, even as he skims a hand around to palm the bulge in Roy's trousers. </p><p>"Could've fooled me," Roy laughs, hips twitching forwards into Jason's hand. Jason curls his fingers around Roy and squeezes up in a slow grind, kisses him just to feel the buzz of his groan against his lips. </p><p>Roy actually seems to be putting effort in, as well, where he's jacking Jason off slow and light - Jason can even feel him <em>squeezing</em> at the head, pants at the way Roy runs a thumb down the underside, delicately pushing the weight of it into Jason and making him shiver under the touch. It's not half-assed like some other people would do; it's slow and genuine and thorough and maybe it's because Roy can feel every hitch in his breath, every shift of his hips to try and bump up into his hand. He grinds his knuckles into Roy and shudders when Roy repeats the move on him, fuck, like he can <em>feel</em> it. Well, he <em>can</em> feel it, like an extension of himself, but not quite in the same way that Roy does, and Jason's not sure how much harder he can <em>get</em> if Roy keeps stroking him like this, still <em>slow</em> and <em>teasing</em> and - </p><p>"Can I?" Jason asks, thumbing at the zip. Roy nods. </p><p>"Please," he pants, and Jason's cock <em>throbs</em> at the hint of a whine buried in Roy's voice. </p><p>He tugs the zipper down without preamble, belatedly shoves his thumb up to pop the button, and presses his palm to Roy's dick over the fabric - Roy mutters something encouraging against his cheek and Jason takes a couple seconds to trace over the head, pushing the fabric down around it and running a thumb under the faint ridge until Roy's hips buck into the touch, his breathing choppy. As if for payback, Roy tucks his thumb under the fly of Jason's underwear, murmurs a hot little <em>can I?</em> and Jason's not sure what he wants to do but figures fuck it, he can always tell him to back off if he needs to, and he nods. Roy wiggles the rest of his hand into the fly and wraps his fingers around the packer again, pulls up in a tight stroke and <em>god</em> that's dirty. It punches all the air out of Jason's lungs, and his cheeks feel hot every time Roy's gloved knuckles grind against his body hair. </p><p>"Jesus fuck, you're hot," Roy moans, <em>moans</em>, something thick and wanting in his voice as he rubs up against Jason's hand - oh right, his hand. Jason takes the cue to run his thumb under the edge of the fly as a warning, then does the same thing Roy did to him, plunging his fingers inside to wrap around him proper and he moans just a little breathlessly at how Roy <em>twitches</em> in his palm. He nudges the fabric aside with his wrist to take Roy out, make it easier to jack him off, and Roy sucks in a sharp breath and fucks forward into his fist. </p><p>Jason breaks the kiss to glance down between them, see Roy's forearm working, his hand disappearing into Jasons' underwear up to the wrist, and to watch the head of Roy's dick glide between the circle of his fingers. He tightens his grip - Roy groans - and licks his lips, eyeing up the touch of slick at the head that bumps against his fingers on every stroke. </p><p>And Roy, fuck, Roy doesn't even try to go beyond what Jason has told him to, doesn't try to use his new ground to reach lower, to curve under the packer - he seems wholly invested in getting Jason off just like he asked, and Jason's - well, <em>yeah</em>, it's working, how could it <em>not</em>, with Roy jacking him off with a faster, much more frantic rhythm that matches Jason's hand, panting and rocking on his lap and barely pausing for breaths between kissing Jason's cheek, his jaw, wherever he can reach. But Jason looks down again and he wonders if - </p><p>"Are you clean?" He asks, has to clear his throat when his voice comes out rough. </p><p>"Fuck, what, like - " </p><p>"Can I blow you?" </p><p>Roy's rhythm stumbles. Jason squeezes the head and watches slick bead at the tip. </p><p>"I've got condoms in the bedroom if you want them," Jason says hurriedly. "But I don't mind if - " </p><p>"Yeah, yeah, I'm clean," Roy pants. "Fuck, yeah, I get tested after each partner." He shudders. "And I haven't slept with anyone else for months." </p><p>He opens his eyes to look at Jason, pupils black-blown. "You?" </p><p>"I'm tested," Jason says. "Also haven't gotten any in months." He grins. "And I think I'm immune. Pit effects." He hasn't even gotten a <em>cold</em> since he came back, even when he was staying at the manor and everyone else came down with one, but he's not exactly interested in testing that theory out on STDs. </p><p>"<em>Jesus</em>. Yes, then, yeah, fuck." </p><p>Roy makes to get off of Jason's lap, but Jason grabs his hips instead and urges him to twist, laying him across the sofa, his back propped up against the arm, so Jason can wiggle between his legs, pushing Roy's thigh out until his foot slips off to land on the floor instead, giving Jason plenty of space. Jason's glad he decided to spring for the bigger sofa, now. He still has to kneel, but he's got room to curl his hands around Roy's hips and drop his head down to nose at his cock, glancing up to see Roy's shuddered inhale. Jason grins and runs his nose up to the ridge underneath the head, rubbing it in for a moment just to make Roy gasp and twitch, shoving hair out of his eyes to stare down at him. </p><p>Jason circles a hand around the base to steady Roy's dick for himself, leaning up a little more to flick his tongue over the slit, where Roy is still wet and sticky for him, a helpless little noise escaping his throat at the touch. Then he presses the wide flat of his tongue against the underside, and drags up in a slow stroke, and Roy almost <em>whines</em> above him, a hand sliding into Jason's hair to hold on. Jason squeezes the base and lifts Roy's cock off of his hip to seal his lips around the head, eyes falling shut automatically to focus, tune into the twitches and suppressed shivers running through Roy's body to figure out what he likes. And sure, Jason doesn't normally make a habit of sucking people off after a fight, or, really, any strenuous, sweaty physical activity, but he doesn't mind the taste too much. It's easy to push past it to taste, instead, the slick beading onto his tastebuds, to find Roy's signature underneath it all, a stronger, more potent version of what Jason could taste while kissing him earlier. </p><p>With a slick <em>pop</em>, Jason pulls off, rubbing his thumb in circles on the underside just to drive Roy a little crazy. </p><p>"Said I'd show you sometime," he says, smirking a little. Roy groans, hips lifting up into his touch. </p><p>"I'm not really getting it, coach," Roy replies, his voice shaky with panting. He rolls his hips up again, deliberate. "Think you can show me again?" </p><p>Jason laughs at the line, but he does indeed <em>show Roy again</em>. Roy curses and moans at it, fingers flexing in his hair as Jason bobs slowly on him. He looks like a fucking wet dream above him, flushed, panting, legs apart, eyes glued to Jason and Jason's mouth, hot little noises spilling from him whenever Jason sinks down low enough to meet the circle of his fingers, stroking in matching time. Roy's fidgety, unsurprisingly, twitching and shifting and breathing out his name between desperate inhales. Jason lets his eyes fall shut, puts more weight on the forearm resting on Roy's thigh to better the angle on his neck when he sinks down deeper, <em>wetter</em>, enjoying the feel of Roy pinning his tongue to the floor of his mouth, of pushing against the top, sliding against the inside of his cheek - he pauses and tilts his head to make it bulge out, and huffs a laugh through his nose at the strangled sound Roy makes, at the telltale scrunch of fabric where Roy's gripping the back of the sofa with his other hand. </p><p>Roy does a hot little wiggle whenever Jason manages to drag the point of his tongue under the ridge of the head, so Jason makes sure to exploit that as much as he's able. He even pulls off for air a couple times, when Roy's all heavy breathing and suppressed twitches and so palpably close Jason can practically <em>taste</em> him already. It's written clear in each punch of his hips into empty air, fucking up into Jason's fist and bumping against his cheek as Jason pants, trying to collect himself. </p><p>It doesn't work. Jason goes back down on him and shifts his weight once more to work his other arm underneath himself, to his open fly - he pushes impatient fingers into his underwear and wraps them around the packer at first, jacking himself in stuttery, arrhythmic time. </p><p>"Oh <em>god</em>, Jason," Roy moans, hips rocking up more deliberately now, careful not to choke but desperate for more - Jason recognises the movement, and the sentiment, and he just groans around Roy's cock. Roy swears again, high-pitched and wobbly, and twitches on his tongue. </p><p>Roy's thighs tense up either side of Jason, knees drawing in to his sides, and Jason loses whatever last shred of patience he had in his body; he's hot on Roy's heels in the <em>close</em> department, rocking into his own hand almost as frantically as Roy is into his mouth, and he tugs out the packer to dump it unceremoniously on the sofa underneath him, slide dry fingers into his underwear once more to jack himself off where any touch feels like a punch to the gut, hot and immediate and definitely motivating the next unplanned noise he makes around Roy. </p><p>"Jason, I'm close, fuck, I'm <em>really</em> close," Roy babbles, tugging on Jason's hair as if to encourage him to pop off. Jason would just to scoff, but Roy's breathing is cutting shorter, sharper, and when Jason doesn't budge, he gives up on the tugging and settles for holding again, fingers curling tight as he gasps. </p><p>"'m gonna come, oh <em>fuck</em>," Roy gets out, and all his tensing peaks into a strong shudder, a ragged groan escaping him as he comes over Jason's tongue, dick twitching against his lips and fingers. Jason doesn't move from his spot, but he does gentle on the sucking a little, slows his stroking while Roy <em>shudders</em> again, Jason's name torn from him in a breathless moan - Jason dares to open his eyes and peek up at Roy. His head is tipped back, throat working on his swallows, and the muscles in his arms and shoulders stand out in sharp relief where he's digging his nails into the plush sofa. </p><p>Again, <em>wet dream</em>. Jason grinds his fingers against his cock and shivers. </p><p>Roy urges him off, eventually, and Jason reluctantly pulls off but he doesn't go far, dropping his head to Roy's hip with a groan as he strokes himself, feeling just a little wanton and lot slutty from it. </p><p>"Wait, fuck, hold on," Roy pants, using his grip on Jason's hair to encourage his head up a little. Jason pushes himself up on his forearm to look at Roy. </p><p>"I wanna touch you too," Roy says, but then his eyes flick down to the discarded packer and back to Jason's hand, and they widen with a sharp inhale when he realises Jason's touching <em>flesh and blood</em> now. And god help him, just the thought of Roy touching him too makes him <em>shiver</em> again.  </p><p>"Fuck," Roy says succinctly, and licks his lips. "Can I blow you?" </p><p>Jason pauses. So does his hand, although he can't help the twitch of his hips into it. </p><p>"Uh, no," he says, and swallows, and looks away from Roy's gaze. "Not - like this, uh - " </p><p>"Already forgotten," Roy says, and tugs Jason up to kiss him instead, just as hot and dizzying as the first time. "What do you want?" </p><p>Instead of replying, Jason pulls back from Roy, pulling on his arms to guide him back and with a little rearrangement, they end up how they started, Roy straddling his lap and one hand hovering over Jason's open fly, fingers hesitant but mouth decidedly <em>unhesitant</em> in the way he kisses Jason, open-mouthed and shameless and seemingly completely uncaring that Jason still tastes like come. Jason slumps down a little and puts his hand over Roy's, pushing it down towards his crotch. Roy plucks at the fabric of his underwear, a question that Jason answers with a slight nod in the midst of their kissing. </p><p>Roy's fingers feel warm and strange at first, points of contact Jason can't control, but he doesn't do much more than drag through his body hair at first, and it snags and catches on the edges of his gloves. Jason swallows and presses his hand down further. Roy leads with two fingers, middle and ring, and lets the others sprawl either side of Jason's cock; he crooks the middle two up a bit and Jason nods, gives him a breathless little groan as encouragement. </p><p>"Don't - go lower," he pants, already rolling up into Roy's touch. Roy shakes his head. </p><p>"Wasn't planning to," he replies, and spends a couple moments <em>experimenting</em>; he strokes up the underside in slow, knee-weakening teases, makes a noise in the back of his throat when Jason clutches at his arms and kisses him, muffling a quiet sound into his mouth. He tries a circle, and <em>fuck</em>, Jason struggles not to thrust up into it. </p><p>Jason runs a hand up and around to the back of Roy's neck, pulling him in to kiss him harder, surer, nodding when Roy starts up a pace, jacking him off in steady circles with a hard, grinding pressure that makes Jason hot all over, panting in huffs of breath between them. Roy nudges his cheek to the side to start laying kisses down his jaw - he bites on the bone when Jason lets out a shaky noise - and down his neck, lips lingering over his pulsepoint, as if debating. Whatever he's thinking about, he must make a decision, because he gets back to it a moment later, sinking kisses into the sensitive spot underneath his jaw, down the tendons in his throat, his idle, encouraging noises a low buzz through Jason's skin as Jason helplessly fucks into his hand, eyes screwing shut. Roy's <em>good</em> with his fingers, almost a fucking <em>expert</em> at picking a move and <em>sticking</em> with it, good and thorough and so fucking <em>hot</em> Jason can't help rocking underneath him, panting out his name in a faint litany. Roy grunts and twists his forearm - then shifts it again, and Jason forces himself to back down from the edge for a coherent two seconds to get out his next words. </p><p>"We can - <em>fuck, Roy</em> - your wrist, if it's uncomfortable," Jason pants, and Roy shakes his head, breath puffing out hot over Jason's jugular. </p><p>"I don't care if I fucking break my wrist doing this," he says, voice rough. "Fuck, you're so <em>hot</em>, Jason." </p><p>"Jesus," Jason breathes, and lets his head fall back against the sofa as he urges Roy into a more selfish rhythm, fast and grindy and making his thighs tremble underneath Roy's weight. "Roy, I'm close." </p><p>Roy rears up to kiss him again, their teeth clinking together in his desperation - Jason barely has time to focus on the resonant pain when he's met with the moan Roy pours directly onto his tongue, his hand speeding up to match Jason's thrusts so fast his forearm is twitchy between them. Jason grasps at his sides, his hair, rolls his hips up in powerful thrusts to chase the sensation, and he can already feel familiar heat creeping up his spine and through his limbs, making his muscles tense and lock. </p><p>"Roy," he murmurs, shudders. "Roy, 'm gonna come." </p><p>"That's what I'm aiming for," Roy mutters back, and Jason can feel the hint of a smirk against his mouth, but he loses any more details in the next second, when he comes with a ragged exhale and a stuttery moan, toes curling so hard the knuckles crack in his shoes. The next circle rips a shudder and a groan out of him, his legs alternating between locking up and relaxing, his mouth caught between hanging open and kissing Roy however clumsily through the haze of orgasm that washes out everything except Roy's fingertips sliding over his cock - more like slipping now, actually, slicked up a bit - and Roy's mouth on his, two hot, warring points on his body that elicit another jolt and another weak noise from him. </p><p>He goes slack against the sofa a minute later, head lolling back on the backrest while Roy kisses idly down his throat, his fingers slowing but not stopping to work all the tremors out of Jason, pleasant waves of pleasure that make him twitch in his extremities, all the way down to his dick against Roy's fingertips. His lips feel numb from kissing. Roy accidentally catches a nail against him and Jason hisses - Roy murmurs an apology and soothes it with a few gratuitous strokes up the underside. Jason feels like he fucking <em>pulsates </em>with that sensation. But then Roy returns to the head, and the next slick rub of his fingers is razor sharp with oversensitivity. Jason sucks in a breath through his teeth and gently pushes Roy's hand away. Roy kisses back up to his jaw while he catches his breath. </p><p>"I could get used to this," Roy says. Jason lifts his head to look at him, cocking a lazy eyebrow. </p><p>"Sitting on your lap," Roy explains, and rolls his hips down in filthy implication. Jason snickers and rests a hand on Roy's hip, pressing his thumb to the bone. </p><p>"Me too," he replies, dragging his gaze over Roy in a slow, deliberate sweep. Roy lifts his hand up and considers his fingers - which are shiny, Jason now notices, a damp sheen on the pads. </p><p>Without preamble, Roy licks his fingers, then closes his lips around them to clean them off. Jason's cheeks burn and a strangled noise escapes his throat. Roy raises his eyebrows and pulls his fingers out of his mouth. </p><p>"That okay?" He asks, a mix of genuine and dirty. Jason stares dumbly. </p><p>"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, that's - that's really hot." </p><p>"Fair's fair," Roy replies, waggling his eyebrows. "<em>You</em> swallowed." </p><p>"I guess," Jason says, and curls his fingers in Roy's collar to kiss him again, licking a new taste off of his lower lip. </p><p>Roy stays there for a couple minutes, arms resting on Jason's shoulders while he lazily makes out with him. It's nice, even if lethargy is starting to set in Jason's bones, exhausted. Running from the cops will do that to you - well, that and enthusiastic, messy sex with someone apparently determined to infringe his informal copyright on red-and-black. </p><p>Afterwards, though, Roy dismounts him, flopping down beside Jason on the sofa and slumping into the cushions. Both of them stare up at the ceiling, their breathing still evening out. </p><p>"You never went to college," Jason says. Roy laughs, loud and unabashed. </p><p>"Never said I did," he replies, glancing over at Jason with a smirk. "But I was definitely on campus a lot." </p><p>Jason snorts. Then Roy lifts his arms up to stretch, and relaxes back into the sofa with a pleased sigh. </p><p>"I should shower," Jason says offhandedly. Roy nods. </p><p>"Me too." He looks at Jason again with a grin. "You could join me." </p><p>Jason huffs. "You can go first." </p><p>Roy doesn't press. He stands up and starts undressing - casually, like he's not in the middle of Jason's living room. The shirt falls to the coffee table, and Jason finds himself admiring him while he works on unlacing his boots. </p><p>"Enjoying the view?" Roy asks, looking at Jason with his thumbs tucked in his waistband, ready to push his trousers down. Jason stretches an arm out across the backrest and runs his other hand over his mouth. </p><p>"Yeah, actually," he says, lifting his eyes from Roy's happy trail to look up at his face. He reaches forward to grab Roy's waistband, tugging him in between Jason's spread legs. Then he grins, dirty and slow. "Too bad you struck out on third." </p><p>Roy laughs, low and deep and attractive, and leans over Jason to rest a hand on the backrest, their noses almost touching. Jason idly tugs down Roy's zipper once more. </p><p>"Baseball metaphors? You sure know the way to my heart." </p><p>Jason starts pulling Roy's trousers down. "I'm planning on making a few stops on the way." </p><p>"Likewise." Roy leans in past Jason, his breath ghosting over his ear. "Maybe after a shower, you can show me how you like your blowjobs." </p><p>Jason sucks in a breath. Roy grins against his ear. </p><p>"I thought I remembered you saying somethin' about guts and rearranging?" He murmurs back. Roy chuckles. </p><p>"Gotta touch third if you wanna get to home," he says, and kisses the bolt of Jason's jaw. His trousers pool at his ankles. Jason strips the underwear, too. Runs a thumb over Roy's soft cock and enjoys the little shiver it earns him. </p><p>"But I'd let you perform goddamn surgery on me if you wanted," Roy adds, and then it's Jason's turn to shiver. He touches his fingers to Roy's hip and gently pushes him back. </p><p>"Go fucking shower before I get hard again," he says, his voice catching in his throat. </p><p>"Promises, promises."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Oh <em>fuck</em>, Jason, that's <em>good</em>, fuck." </p><p>Roy looks fucking <em>amazing</em> under him, spread out on Jason's bed and gripping the pillow under his head with one hand while the other twists in the sheets. There's a fine sheen of sweat across his chest and his brow and he looks <em>good</em> getting fucked, dishevelled and debauched and dirty right here underneath Jason, coughing out a moan when Jason hits home - <em>ha</em>- next, thrusting in with a fast, steady pace that they built up with a whole lot of touching and kissing and - yeah, and <em>sweat</em>. The backs of Jason's knees are sticky, and the hair at the nape of his neck is plastered to his skin, and he's never given much thought to his bedroom AC before now but <em>fuck</em>, if this continues, he's gonna have to invest in a fan of some sort. </p><p>Roy's hips arch up into Jason, sweat dampening the space between his palms and Roy's hipbones. His eyes slam shut at Jason's next thrust, and Jason groans incoherently at the sight, all words punched out of him by Roy's unconscious insistence on being the hottest thing in the room - almost literally. He fucks in again and Roy's cock twitches on his hip, still spit-slick. </p><p>
  <em>"Should I say batter's up?" Jason jokes, pressing his grin to Roy's dick. "Or should I warn you about striking out?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You should tell me to worry about fouling the play," Roy says, his mouth drawing up in a smirk. It's odd, how he can look so casual and yet so filthy. Jason crooks his fingers up a touch and Roy swears quietly, his thighs trembling either side of Jason's head. </em>
</p><p>They never got past the fumble on the sofa, in the end. By the time Jason had finished showering, Roy had already made dinner, so they ended up falling asleep on Jason's bed together, still half-clothed and giggling about whatever trashy TV show Roy had found on Netflix hours earlier. </p><p>And now, well, now it's mid-morning, after a very lazy waking up, and Roy kissed him slow and went to take another, deliberately longer shower while Jason found a towel to protect his fucking bedsheets, and now they're...here. Here, and the sticky slow summer heat is creeping in around the edges of the door and the windows, cutting into the much more pleasant warmth left over by the nighttime and making everything a feat of stickiness. </p><p>Not that Jason really minds. He's got plenty to occupy him, there's cold leftovers in his fridge for lunch, and got nowhere to be for the next few hours. Although he's pretty sure Roy does. It's a Tuesday, and that usually means - </p><p>"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Jason pants, tightening his grip on Roy's hips to fuck into him harder. He likes the weight of Roy's leg around his hip, ankle pressing into his back. </p><p>Roy laughs and slams a hand against the wall when Jason's next thrust shoves him up the bed. "Oh, I'm <em>definitely</em> fifty minutes late to a Titans meeting." </p><p>As if on cue, his phone rings on the bedside table. He glances at it, a grin already cutting into his cheek. <em>Troy</em> lights up the screen. </p><p>"Don't you fucking answer that," Jason warns. Roy smirks at him with a mouth still damp and swollen from when Jason <em>had</em> shown him how he likes his blowjobs, which is with six inches of silicone between him and the back of Roy's throat. </p><p>"Make me." </p><p>Roy tears his hand away from the pillow to reach for the phone - Jason grunts and drops himself to lean over Roy and pin his arm to the bed, laughing breathlessly as he braces himself with another hand beside the pillow. </p><p>"If you wanted to be handcuffed, you could just ask," Jason teases. Roy hikes his leg higher up on Jason's waist and laughs in response. </p><p>"And where's the fun in that?" He asks. "Anyway, I never said it was about cuffs." </p><p>"Oh, you just wanna be pinned down, then?" Jason runs his hand up Roy's arm to the wrist and brings it up to join the one already above his head, pressing it into the mattress. </p><p>"I want whatever you want to do to me," Roy replies, and licks his lips. Jason tracks the movement with heady interest. </p><p>"I'll keep that in mind," he promises, and pushes himself up to kneeling again, curling his fingers around Roy's hips once more and tugging them into an angle - this time, when he thrusts forward, Roy tips his head back with a ragged groan, fingers flexing into fists above his head. </p><p>"Still good?" Jason asks, smirking as he punches his hips forwards again. </p><p>"<em>Yeah</em>," Roy sighs, and jolts with the next thrust. "<em>Fuck</em>." </p><p>In another round, at another time, Jason would be interested in seeing if Roy can come just like this, or with hardly any touch at all, only with Jason bumping up against his sweet spot. But right now, Roy's face scrunches up with each thrust, brows knitting tight together in focus, his thigh clamping to Jason's side and a shudder running up his body, so Jason touches him before he can ask, wrapping a sweaty palm around Roy's dick and stroking up in rough, uneven time. Roy slams his palms against the wall and swears loudly, biceps flexing as he fucks himself back down. Jason swipes his thumb over the head to find him wet at the tip, smears slick back down and twists his wrist to make Roy shudder again. </p><p>"Shit, <em>shit</em>, 'm gonna come, Jason," Roy spits out, voice tight, and groans raggedly when Jason snaps his hips in. </p><p>"That's kinda the idea," Jason murmurs, but he's already moving to plant a hand on Roy's chest instead, brace himself to fuck in harder, <em>faster</em>, whatever will make Roy keep arching and tensing and panting underneath him. Jesus, if Jason hadn't already come, this would probably do most of the fucking trick for him, especially with how each thrust pushes the harness against his cock. </p><p>Jason dips his head down to brush his lips over the damp hollow of Roy's throat, around to his jugular with rough, sloppy kisses that are mostly broken by his own panting as Roy tenses up below him, swearing hotly under his breath as Jason jacks him off. He can feel Roy's jaw open and close on soundless noise. </p><p>"<em>Fu-uck</em>," Roy manages, creaky and wound and fragile. He sucks in a sharp breath, just the barest edge of a whimper to it, and a hand suddenly lands on Jason's shoulder, blunt nails pressing into his skin through the shirt. </p><p>"Don't - don't stop," Roy pants, almost incomprehensible underneath all the panting and the movement, but Jason nods against his neck, snapping his wrist in time with his hips, squeezing at the head - </p><p>"Oh <em>shit</em>," Roy coughs out, tensed so hard he's trembling, and comes a moment later with a soft, punched-out groan, hips jolting against Jason's as come splatters over his abdomen, gets smeared down by Jason's fingers. He drops his head to the pillow and <em>moans</em> again, pushing himself up into Jason, into his hand, fucking up into his fist and back down onto Jason's cock as if Jason isn't trying his level best to fuck him into the mattress. </p><p>Jason rises just enough to get his lips on Roy's jaw, kissing the bolt of it, and Roy's hand slips from his shoulder into his hair. Roy's heartbeat pounds against Jason's palm, tangible and thrilling - Jason thrusts in and feels Roy's chest expand and catch on his stumbling breath, fucked out of him in quiet noises. He squeezes Roy's dick and Roy makes a choked-off sound in the back of his throat, but doesn't add to the mess already on himself, so Jason consciously slows down a touch, rolling his hips rather than thrusting them, getting lazy on the angle so each roll doesn't get a rushed exhale out of Roy. He slows his hand, too, rubbing up the shaft to ease Roy down as fingers gentle in his hair. Roy relaxes gradually, all the tension bleeding out of him and onto the definitely dampened towel. And bedsheets. Looks like Jason'll have to change them anyway. </p><p>Roy sucks in a sharp breath between one stroke and the next, and Jason gives him a friendly little squeeze before pulling his hand away from good and stilling his hips. </p><p>"You want me to pull out?" He murmurs, rubbing his stubble against Roy's. Neither of them have even <em>shaved</em> yet. </p><p>"Not spiritually," Roy mumbles, a smiling tugging at his lips. "But physically, yeah, it would probably be a good idea." </p><p>Jason snorts a quiet laugh, and reaches down to grip himself around the base and gently pull out, shuffling back on his knees. Roy drops his legs back to the bed with a sigh when he's out, but tugs on Jason's hair to urge him to scoot back on between them again. Jason settles happily on his elbows and resumes his kissing across Roy's jaw, letting himself drop down close enough to feel Roy's chest press against his with each heavy breath. Roy lazily pets his hair, fingers idly twisting in the longer strands where they dip to the nape of his neck. </p><p>"Jesus, it's been a while since I got my brains fucked out like that," Roy says. "You're <em>good</em> at this." </p><p>Jason snickers against his neck, but feels his cheeks heat despite himself. Roy strokes his other hand down Jason's arm. </p><p>"Are you sure you don't want a hand?" He asks, squeezing Jason's bicep meaningfully. "I think I'm still coherent enough for it." </p><p>"Sorry, Harper, I'm a one and done kinda guy," Jason replies. "Wish I could, though. You're fucking <em>hot</em>." </p><p>"Aw, you're so sweet," Roy giggles. </p><p>They fall silent for a few peaceful moments, a hand running up and down Jason's back while he buries his face into the curve of Roy's neck once more, kissing in idle, lazy circles. He can feel sweat drying basically all over him, sticky on the backs of his knees and across his shoulders, and he can feel Roy's skin growing tacky wherever they press together. He can't really bring himself to care, though, when he feels like he's just experienced Roy's orgasm with him. </p><p>"So, how about you, me, leftovers, and then round two?" Roy asks. Jason lifts his head to look at him. </p><p>"I thought you had a meeting," he says. Roy glances over at his phone, the screen alight with notifications. He shrugs. </p><p>"Eh, it can wait." He grins at Jason. "I wanna see how long it takes you to get it up again." </p><p>"Probably the same as you," Jason says, rolling his eyes. </p><p>"Then it's perfect timing for that round two," Roy replies cheerfully, like he's discussing the weather and not them fucking like animals on Jason's furniture. His phone buzzes again. Jason cocks an eyebrow. Roy sighs and grabs it. </p><p>"Okay, I'll text them," he says, swiping open the screen. "Should probably let them know I'm still alive." </p><p>"I'll start cleaning up," Jason replies, and crawls backwards to escape the trap of Roy's lifted arm, kneeling between his legs once more to survey the damage. </p><p>The sheets definitely have to go. They're beyond sweat-soaked at this point. And they're <em>both</em> going to need a shower. Roy alone is covered in his own come, and Jason's still sticky between the legs from earlier, and even though he's mostly dry by now, he can feel the tingle of drying sweat across all of him. </p><p>"What should I say?" Roy asks, smirking. "'Sorry, can't make it today, Dickie's brother just fucked me stupid'?" </p><p>"Mention Dick again and I'll make it so you can't walk," Jason threatens, and stabs a finger at Roy. "In the not-so-fun way." </p><p>Roy laughs, and Jason with him, shaking his head even as he idly runs his clean thumb beside Roy's happy trail, dragging it straight through a stripe of come. </p><p>"'Busy breaking the springs on someone's mattress?'" Roy frowns. "Nah." Jason hums noncommittally. </p><p>"'Not coming in today, can't - '" </p><p>Without even thinking, Jason lifts his thumb to his mouth and licks it off. When he looks up again, Roy's staring at him, mouth agape. </p><p>"Dude, you can't just <em>do</em> that while I'm trying to text the Titans," Roy breathes, and his abdomen shivers under the next sweep of Jason's thumb. </p><p>"Says who?" He licks his thumb clean again, slow, deliberate, dragging his tongue across the pad just to tease. </p><p>"Says <em>me</em>." </p><p>"I thought you were fucked stupid?" </p><p>"Guess you didn't get it all." Roy spreads his legs and raises an eyebrow. "You wanna make sure?" </p><p>Jason grins. "Yeah, I do, actually." And leans over to plant his hands either side of Roy's hips. </p><p>Without preamble, he licks a stripe up Roy's abs, glancing up to him as he swallows. Roy props himself up on an elbow and exhales very, very slowly. </p><p>"Holy shit," he says. Jason runs his tongue in a figure eight around a particularly sticky part of Roy. The phone drops to bed with a <em>thump</em>. Jason huffs a laugh through his nose. </p><p>"Thought you were texting them," he teases. </p><p>"Fuck them, I just said I can't make it today," Roy says quickly, reaching down to sink his hand into Jason's hair. "I'm <em>way </em>more interested in what you're doing." </p><p>"I'm just wetting the field," Jason says, and licks up the V of Roy's hip. "Y'know, for that round two you mentioned." </p><p>"Are you trying to take my baseball lines?" Roy grins. </p><p>"Do you care?" Jason jokes, and Roy laughs delightedly. </p><p>"Nope, because I just hit a home fucking run." </p><p>-- </p><p>"Y'know, I don't usually do this," Jason pants, resting an arm across his forehead as he catches his breath. His fingers are, once again, sticky with lube. </p><p>"What, fuck on the floor?" Roy barks out a laugh. "Me neither, Todd." </p><p>Jason rolls his eyes. The floor is hard against his back, despite the carpeting. He's gonna have to fucking steam-clean it. </p><p>"Fuck anything that breathes," he clarifies. "Not my usual thing." </p><p>Roy gives him a funny look. Jason raises an eyebrow. </p><p>"It's not mine, either," Roy says, and Jason frowns. He'd been assuming this was just Roy's idea of a one-night stand that accidentally stretched into a morning-noon-and-night stand. </p><p>"I thought you were like, the class flirt," he says. Roy laughs. </p><p>"Class flirt doesn't mean I sleep around." He wiggles next to Jason, getting comfortable on the carpet. "Not that there's anything wrong with that." </p><p>"No," Jason agrees. But Roy's words settle in him differently. If he's not indeed, one for sleeping around, then why the hell did he choose <em>Jason</em>? He's never even <em>met</em> him before. </p><p>"Sorry," Jason says, a beat later. Roy waves a dismissive hand. </p><p>"No problem." </p><p>Jason watches Roy puts his hands behind his head and close his eyes, as if he's just going to nap right here and now. He's handsome in the sunlight streaming through the windows - thankfully the burning patch of it misses them by a few feet - with a flush still fading from his cheeks and ears. Jason draws a leg up and stares up at the ceiling again. </p><p>"So why'd you sleep with me, then?" He asks. "If this isn't your usual thing." </p><p>Roy huffs, a faint smile on his lips. "I could ask you the same thing." </p><p>Jason makes a noise of reluctant acknowledgement. Roy opens his eyes to look at him - Jason tears his gaze from the ceiling to look back. He'd get up from the floor, but he's not sure his legs can support him quite yet. </p><p>"Well, why not?" Roy says. He shrugs. "You flirted back. You're hot." </p><p>Jason snorts. Roy grins. </p><p>"And <em>you</em> were the one to pull me into a darkened alley and have your wicked way with me," he teases. </p><p>"It was cover," Jason replies, studying the ceiling once more. "And it <em>worked</em>." </p><p>"Uh-huh," Roy says, unconvinced. "So when you asked me to keep the gloves on last night, that was just for convenience?" He nudges Jason's wrist with his elbow, up between their heads. "Why'd <em>you</em> do it?" </p><p>It's Jason's turn to shrug, now. He rests his other hand on his abdomen. His shirt stretches and bunches underneath his palm with each breath. </p><p>"Why not?" Jason parrots, and laughs at Roy's chuckle. "You were checking me out. You're hot." </p><p>"Hot enough to convince you to get us some water?" </p><p>Jason glances at Roy to find him smiling. </p><p>"Maybe," he allows. "Although I need to get my strength back first." </p><p>"That good, huh?" </p><p>"I feel like you've already answered that in your head." </p><p>"<em>Fantastic</em>, then." Roy grins. "Best sex you've ever had. Can't walk. Can't - " </p><p>Jason drops his arm to roll on top of Roy, one leg between both of his, huffing a laugh against his cheek as he drags his hips lazily against Roy's. </p><p>"All right, Mr. Arrogant," he laughs. Roy wiggles underneath him, grinning. </p><p>"And what're you gonna do about it?" He asks. Jason brushes a kiss against his lips and reaches down to rest his hand over Roy's soft cock, laying against his hip. </p><p>"Think I might stay here until you get hard again," he teases, and strokes his thumb up the length. A shiver rips through Roy. </p><p>"You drive a hard bargain," Roy replies, and kisses the corner of his mouth. "But you might be waiting a while." </p><p>"I've got time." Jason taps his fingers up the underside and Roy's dick twitches against the tips, despite the hiss that whistles through Roy's teeth. </p><p>"And then?" Roy murmurs, his voice pitched into a lower, huskier register. Heat washes over Jason at the familiar sound of it. </p><p>"Then I'll make you come again," Jason says. "Think you can manage that?" </p><p>"If you keep playing dirty, yeah." Roy lifts the leg between Jason's and presses up against his crotch. "Maybe I wanna see if you can get hard again." </p><p>Somehow, Jason thinks if anyone could manage it, it would be Roy. He grinds down against Roy's thigh and shivers at the sensitivity. </p><p>"You're on," he says. </p><p>"Batter's up," Roy teases. </p><p>-- </p><p>"Oh <em>fuck</em>," Jason gasps, slamming a hand against the counter. "Roy - <em>ngh</em> - I'm close, <em>shit</em>." </p><p>Roy hums something completely incoherent around his cock, looking up at Jason as he sucks pointedly, <em>wetly</em>, hard enough to nudge the harness away from Jason for a brief second. Jason moans and rolls his hips forward, careful not to bang the back of Roy's head against the cabinets under the sink. Roy's fingers slip messily over his dick behind the harness, rubbing in fast, matching time with the bobs of his head. Jason's knees tremble underneath him, so he has to lean on the sink counter for support, panting like he's running a fucking marathon. </p><p>He guesses he is, in a way. He's never come <em>four</em> fucking times in one day, and definitely not this <em>athletically</em>. After the third time on the floor, again, they'd actually made an effort at picking themselves up, finding snacks, and showering for the second time that day - except that's where they stumbled. Jason shaved at the sink while Roy showered mere feet away, just behind a cheerful blue shower curtain with a rubber duck pattern, and they had been chatting while Jason rinsed away stubble and rubbed his fingers over his jaw to find any spots he missed. </p><p>Well, chatting. More like joking. More like teasing. More like Roy spitting out casual ideas for the rest of the night like he's choosing dinner, and more like Jason responding in kind, and more like flirting, really. </p><p>And Jason had actually gotten <em>jeans</em> on, this time, before shaving. He'd ditched the sweaty shirt and underwear, though, figured it didn't matter when he'd be undressing for the shower anyway in a matter of minutes. </p><p>Except in those minutes, they had gotten off-track again. Jason had made an offer, Roy had gone silent. Accepted a long moment later, and Jason had silently put the razor back in its charger and gone to put on a harness underneath his jeans, tugging them back up but leaving them unbuttoned because Roy was just going to rip them open anyway. He had a clean dildo in place before Roy had even stopped the water. </p><p>Anyway, they got far enough as Roy getting underwear and a borrowed shirt on, and it went harshly south from there. So now Jason's got him crowded up against the sink and its cabinets, Roy's got him weak in the knees and moaning uselessly into the steamy air, and - yeah, really. Jason can officially now say he's gotten two blowjobs in one day, which doesn't seem like it should be <em>that</em> hard an achievement, but he's never had a partner quite as...<em>dedicated</em> as Roy. </p><p>Case in point - Roy's sitting on his ass with his legs spread around Jason's feet, and he stroking the lower half of the toy with his free hand, but it keeps dropping down to rub at himself over his underwear, eyelids fluttering with the motion. Earlier, when he was pulling off to lay kisses down the length and lick up the underside, he was smirking and joking and laughing at Jason, curling a hand around his hip to urge him to roll <em>into</em> his mouth, hands eager on Jason's hips, his thighs, before they ever got anywhere near between his legs. </p><p>Jason had asked for it eventually, because there's only so close he can get from fucking Roy's mouth before he needs a hand, and Roy had enthusiastically obliged, panting through his nose and working his fingers into Jason's fly to press up against him. It's so uniquely a mix between flashes of heat so hot it feels like a fire, and residual sharpness of oversensitivity from orgasms past that Jason can't decide if he will actually come from this yet, but it sure fucking <em>feels </em>like he will, and Roy's eyes are damp in the corners where he let Jason choke him a little, and he looks so fucking <em>good</em>, cocky despite getting his mouth fucked for the second time today, the hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth when Jason pulls out a few inches before sinking back in. </p><p>"<em>God</em>," Jason whimpers, gripping the marble counter so tight his knuckles are going white. Roy pants through his nose and jacks him off quick and hard, cheeks flushed red from the shower and the steam and the blowjob, and Jason's trembling so much he's a little worried about accidentally choking Roy. </p><p>Roy pushes at his hip to pop off, rolling his jaw in a circle and sucking in desperate breaths as he looks up at Jason, mouth red and lips wet and - <em>fuck</em>. </p><p>"You gonna strike out?" He teases, smirking up at him. "Can't quite make it to third?" </p><p>"God, shut <em>up</em>," Jason groans, grinding against Roy's fingers. It makes the toy bump against his cheek, leaving a wet smear against it. Roy kisses the head. Jason shivers from scalp to soles. Then Roy pushes his fingers up <em>harder</em> and Jason whimpers, collapsing onto his elbows above the sink. </p><p>"Oh fuck, <em>oh</em>," he gasps, and an involuntary shake ripples up his thighs and through his forearms, making his hands tremble on the porcelain. "I'm gonna come, Roy, oh <em>fuck</em>." He can't help the whimper that tears out of him, knees quaking. </p><p>"Jesus," Roy swears, and the next thing Jason hears is the telltale noise of Roy sucking his cock, wet and thick and <em>obscene</em>. Jason jolts with each stroke, wound up so so close it almost hurts to tense up, his jaw dropping open on these pathetic little <em>oh-oh</em> noises, like they're getting fucked out of him. </p><p>He doesn't have the fucking capacity to say anything when the shudders peak and plateau and he comes with a rough, guttural noise, shaking so hard he has to slump against the counter for support, caught between lightning-hot pleasure and frayed oversensitivity. It's so fucking <em>much</em> it feels like his nerves are tingling all over, washing up from the nape of his neck all the way down to the base of his spine. Roy follows the abrupt, rocky jolting of his hips easily, not letting up on the pressure and the <em>circles</em>, the goddamn <em>circles</em>, while Jason's knees buckle and slam against the cabinets either side of Roy's head. Roy must have already pulled off, because his face appears buried in Jason's hip, kissing messily over the bone, and his other hand is nowhere to be felt on Jason's body. Judging by the short, panted breaths stirring Jason's body hair, he's jacking himself off. </p><p>Jason is incoherent by the time he stops jolting and juddering, leaning heavily on the counter as shudders trickle through his body. With so many fucking orgasms wrung out of him in the past eight hours, he becomes sensitive much quicker than normal, the pleasant rub of Roy's fingers abruptly incredibly, pointedly painful that Jason almost cries out. </p><p>"Stop, stop, fuck," he pants, and Roy does, his fingers filthy wet. Jason can't even bring himself to stand up. </p><p>"Fuck," he spits again, just because he can. But he can feel Roy shifting against his legs, can hear the distinct slap of skin on skin, and he pushes himself up just enough to look down. Roy's head is pressed against the cabinets, his nose scrunched up and eyes screwed shut as he works himself over, waistband pushed down carelessly. </p><p>"Let me help," Jason says, and starts to step back, but Roy stops him with a hand around his thigh. </p><p>"No, no, I'm so fuckin' close," he pants, and opens his eyes to look up at Jason. His flush deepens. "Fuck my mouth." </p><p>"What?" </p><p>Roy pauses his hand just enough to speak, licking his lips. He manages a smirk, but it's weak and shaky and his hips twitch up wantonly. </p><p>"Always wanted to try coming while blowing someone," he says. He glances down at Jason's dick and back up. </p><p>Jason gapes and forgets the entirety of the English alphabet.  </p><p>"Jason, please, I'm gonna come in five fucking seconds," Roy pleads, voice strained. "Just give me a yes or no." </p><p>"Fuck, sorry, yeah, yes, that's - that's <em>hot</em>," Jason babbles, reaching down to wrap a hand around the base and level it with Roy's mouth. </p><p>He keeps one arm on the counter and sinks into Roy's mouth somewhere between careful and impatient, absolutely fucking enchanted by how Roy opens up for it, his jaw easy and loose as Jason rocks in. Roy resumes jacking off, and his eyes slam shut again - he sucks sloppily on Jason a couple times, spit in the corners of his mouth, but mostly pants around him as Jason fucks in, sliding against his tongue but not quite reaching his throat. Roy groans, nods as he rolls up into his fist. He drops his free hand to himself as well, and Jason manages to tear his eyes from Roy's mouth just long enough to see what he's doing below him. Whatever it is, it's making him huff out small, whimpered noises around Jason's cock, his brow wrinkling as he gets close. He's got one hand furiously stroking himself, and the other thumbing at the head, rubbing slick in a dirty circle - Roy moans whenever he repeats the move. Jason makes a mental note to try that on him later, if either of them are able to try a round five. </p><p>"Fucking hell, Roy," Jason pants, stroking Roy's jaw while Roy shudders and bobs on him. </p><p>Jason rolls his hips forward in even time, easier now that he's not shaking apart at the seams, and Roy abruptly moans, then <em>whimpers</em>, and comes with a shudder, come spurting up onto his fingers and borrowed shirt. His shoulders curl forward with a shake, and Jason pulls out to let him breathe, just in time for Roy's back to slam against the cabinets with a loud <em>thud</em>, his shoulders straight again. There's a string of spit still connecting his lower lip to the head of Jason's dick. Jason stares at it for inappropriately long before breaking it with a swipe of his thumb and pushing forward against Roy's mouth again, parting them for him. Roy shudders and lets him, moaning happily, if lazily, as his hips gradually slow, one hand dropping to the floor. The other stays wrapped around himself, but even Jason can see it loosen, nice and easy for him to fuck up into as aftershocks ripple through his system. </p><p>Eventually, Roy stops touching himself, and Jason pulls out of his mouth, and they stay there for a few long moments, both catching their breath. Jason's knees don't feel any stronger. </p><p>"My dick is gonna be so fucking sore," Roy pants. A hysterical laugh bubbles out of Jason. </p><p>"Join the club." He pushes himself off of the counter just enough to turn and sink down onto the floor beside Roy, jeans still open around his hips. Roy reaches over to wrap a hand around his dick and drag up in a lazy stroke, turning to kiss Jason at the same time. </p><p>"You are <em>not</em> trying to get me hard again," Jason mumbles into it. Although he <em>definitely</em> thinks they should revisit this position. </p><p>"You're just fun to touch," Roy says, grinning as he tugs on Jason. He lets go a moment later. Jason slumps against his shoulder, closing his eyes as he rests his head against Roy's. The steam from the shower has dissipated by now, leaving them with only a pleasantly cool breeze from the cracked window. </p><p>"I think I broke something," Jason says. Roy's shoulder shakes with laughter. </p><p>"Well, you'll be breaking my heart if you don't promise to give me a repeat," he says, smiling into Jason's hair. </p><p>"Which part?" </p><p>"The dick-in-my-mouth-when-I-come part." </p><p>Jason flushes hot and snickers at the same time. "So you liked it." </p><p>"I think I'd like anything with you," Roy sighs, slapping a hand onto Jason's knee. "You're ridiculously hot." </p><p>"Mm, speak for yourself." Jason briefly closes his eyes, trying to gauge if he still has feeling in his fingers and toes. The jury's still out on that one. </p><p>He's comfortable against Roy's shoulder for a spell, even with the hard wood against his back and the cool of the tile bleeding through to his ass. Beside him, Roy is warm and solid and heavy, sagged against him like a sack of fucking potatoes. Jason can't find it in himself to complain. </p><p>"You shower and I'll make dinner?" Roy murmurs. </p><p>"You cooked last night," Jason replies, lifting his head to tip it back against the cabinet. </p><p>"Consider it my thanks for all the marathon sex." </p><p>Jason snorts. "I don't even know what I have left in the fridge." </p><p>Roy knocks their knees together. "I'll find something. I make a mean stir fry." </p><p>Jason 'mm's noncommittally. </p><p>Roy's the first to stand up, tucking himself in before offering a hand to Jason to pull him up. Before Jason can break away, Roy smoothly wraps his other arm around his waist and tugs him in for a fleeting kiss, nothing more than a bare brush of lips. When they part, Roy rubs his jaw with a frown, rolling it again. Jason grins. </p><p>"How's your jaw?" He asks, leaning against the counter. </p><p>"Oh, it's gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow." </p><p>-- </p><p>"Jesus Christ, this is almost worse than when I dislocated my jaw." </p><p>"You were the one asking me to go harder." </p><p>"Never listen to horny-me," Roy complains, rubbing at the bolt of his jaw. He props himself up on an elbow to peer at the time on Jason's alarm clock. Jason stays where he is, comfortable on his front with an arm wrapped around his pillow. </p><p>The sheets fall away from Roy as he sits up, further drenching him in the sunlight that pours through the curtains they forgot to close last night, after a giggly round five underneath the new clean covers where they were both too oversensitive to really go again but determined anyway. It was more of a rushed handjob affair, but effective enough, <em>and </em>they managed to avoid staining the new sheets, so Jason counts it as a double win. </p><p>He finds himself idly admiring the way light drips over Roy's naked chest, lingering on the faint shadow where muscle makes curves across his arms. The sheets catch halfway down his waist, just enough to give the illusion of nudity even though Jason knows he's wearing borrowed pyjamas underneath that. He's unfairly handsome even with bedhead. </p><p>Roy turns a sunny, if lopsided smile on him, sinking back down onto his back and stretching his arms up above him. The green numbers on Jason's clock blink 10:52 a.m. Roy's spine cracks faintly. </p><p>"Hey," Jason says when Roy relaxes again, turning to face him. </p><p>"Hiya, handsome," Roy replies. His gaze sweeps down Jason's form underneath the blankets and back up. </p><p>"Never too early to be charming, huh?" </p><p>Roy hums. "Not when I wake up to <em>this</em>." He gestures at Jason, and Jason rolls his eyes. Roy brushes his knuckles against Jason's arm. </p><p>"You want breakfast?" Jason asks, raising his eyebrows. "I can do omelettes." </p><p>Roy grins. "I thought you'd never ask." </p><p>Breakfast is a...surprisingly unawkward affair, to start. Jason gets dressed and starts cooking while Roy retrieves his clothes from the dryer to redress. Jason forgets all about the fact that Roy came in his vigilante clothes until Roy appears behind him with two glasses in hand, dressed head to toe in red and black Kevlar. Jason can see the gloves peeking out of a back pocket. He feels almost underdressed, now, in just a shirt and cargo trousers, although that's half of his usual outfit already. He'd much rather be standing here in still-warm pyjamas and socks, but unfortunately, he's still got a drug ring to bust. </p><p>Roy kisses him on the cheek after filling the glasses, and Jason's lungs squeeze on air he forgets to exhale. Then, as smooth as anything, Roy disappears to the barstools. </p><p>Jason plates up the omelettes and deposits them on the breakfast counter while Roy types on his phone, catching up on notifications. Jason's own phone is lit up black and blue in his back pocket, but it's nothing he can't put off for another couple of hours. They eat in comfortable silence, just the clink of forks and knives and the tap of phone screens. </p><p>The comfortable frays the smaller the omelettes get, as if making space for the elephant in the room - or at least, the elephant in Jason's ribcage, growing larger by the second. </p><p>"I, uh, actually have business I need to do today," Jason says, pushing his empty plate to the side. Roy locks his phone and finishes his water. </p><p>"Me too," he says easily. "Titans have sent over a couple leads to follow here." </p><p>Jason nods. Roy drums his fingers against the counter. </p><p>With a sigh, Jason relents to the thing sitting heavy in his chest. </p><p>"What...are we doing?" He asks, nervously licking his lips as he meets Roy's eyes. He gestures between them. "With us." </p><p>Roy stares at him for a long moment. Jason hovers between shutting off and holding on. </p><p>"I'd like to do it again," Roy says. He grins. "I haven't met many guys that can keep up like that." </p><p>Jason laughs, shaking his head. </p><p>"Me too," he admits, and smiles at Roy. "But I wouldn't mind seeing you with your clothes on again." </p><p>"Are you saying you want to team up with me?" Roy asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. </p><p>"<em>No</em>," Jason scoffs. "I'm saying maybe I could invite you over for a few beers sometime." </p><p>"I don't drink." </p><p>"A few sodas, then." Jason pushes his phone across the table. "Whatcha say?" </p><p>He doesn't know what's possessed him to be quite so bold, but he chalks it up to too much exposure to Roy. Maybe the cockiness rubbed off on him. </p><p>"I'd say that sounds a whole lot like a team-up." </p><p>But Roy swaps their phones out and Jason sets about putting himself in Roy's contacts, right between <em>Stone</em> and <em>Troy</em>. </p><p>"I really do have leads to do, though," Roy says when they swap back, an apologetic look on his face. </p><p>"So do I," Jason says. "I wasn't lying just to boot you out." </p><p>"I didn't think so, Red Riding," Roy teases. "But I gotta go. Thanks for breakfast." </p><p>He stands up and gets ready in whirlwind, breezing into Jason's living room to gather up his bow and quiver and cap and goggles, lacing up his boots with practised ease while Jason stacks the plates on the counter and stares at Roy's ass a little shamelessly, his phone still held between his hands. Before he knows it, Roy's saluting him and unlocking the front door, goggles strapped over that stupid fucking cap. </p><p>"Don't be a stranger!" Roy calls before slamming the door shut behind him. Jason chuckles to himself and glances down at his phone screen. </p><p>He unlocks it with his thumbprint to find it still open on Contacts. And right there, smack between <em>Cain</em> and <em>Drake</em>: </p><p><em>Cupid ;)</em>. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason half-expected Roy to disappear into the background of Gotham, become a face and a name and nothing more than a contact number if he <em>really</em> got into a scrape. </p><p>The other half of him knew better. </p><p>"Well, now this just feels like fate," Roy says, with a grin that's not much more than a flash of teeth. </p><p>"Trust me, if I wanted to get trapped with you in a fucking shed, I would've just invited you into my coat closet," Jason spits through gritted teeth. He's not angry at Roy. It's hard to focus, where Roy's pressed up against him, squeezed together in a cramped groundskeeper shed while a couple of pushers meet in the high school gym just across the basketball court. </p><p>Jason had ducked in here when one of the skulking "guards" - undercover, good at looking like frazzled, haughty high school seniors - had looked a bit too interestedly in his direction, head cocked. Clearly, Roy had had a similar ordeal. </p><p>"Is that a proposition?" Roy jokes. Jason rolls his head to raise an eyebrow at him. Roy can't see it under his helmet, but he must be able to tell what emotion Jason's trying to emit, because he tips his head back with a laugh. Jason can't make out where he's looking, the goggles are so reflective. </p><p>"You never texted," Jason says instead, turning back to press his ear to the window, but his helmet's enhanced hearing doesn't pick up anything. Hopefully that means there's no one creeping around the shed - the piles of leaves around it mean that they'd hear a crunch of footsteps before anyone got the drop on them. </p><p>Roy rolls his jaw and smacks on his chewing gum. </p><p>"Neither did you," he points out. It's only been a couple weeks since their rendezvous at Jason's place, and his bed, and the living room floor, and the bathroom - </p><p>"Yeah, okay," Jason admits, shoulders dropping. The gym door hasn't opened again. To his surprise, Roy <em>apologises</em>. </p><p>"Sorry." </p><p>Jason whips his head around to look at him. Roy's pushed the goggles up to the cap so Jason can see his eyes, see the sincere, honest look in them. </p><p>"Why the hell are <em>you</em> sorry?" </p><p>Roy shrugs. It seems so easy, but Jason knows the quiver has to be heavy. </p><p>"Felt like the right thing to say," he says, and drags his gaze down Jason's chest and back up to his eyes. </p><p>Roy looks <em>good</em>. Jason would wonder if he somehow got <em>hotter</em> since last he saw him, but he knows full well it's because he knows what Roy looks like underneath him, knows <em>intimately</em> the noises he buries into Jason's neck, pillow, floor, dick - </p><p>"We keep running into this problem," Jason says, and lets his fingers uncurl from his holstered gun to drift over Roy's hip. "I didn't whistle, you didn't call." </p><p>"Maybe third time's the charm." Roy smiles easily, lazily, just the littlest bit charmingly crooked. Jason wants to rip that stupid hat off all over again and kiss him stupid. He leans in involuntarily, just the slightest touch, and startles when Roy's hand curves around the base of the helmet. </p><p>"What are you doing?" </p><p>"I can't kiss you with the helmet on," Roy answers. </p><p>They're on a case. They're on an <em>active</em> case. Jason's <em>trailing</em> one of the pushers. That gym door beyond the bleary glass could open at any time, and they could slip away back into their unsubtle gun-black SUVs and drive away scot-free. </p><p>Jason unlatches the helmet himself and kisses Roy, helmet shoved carelessly onto a worktop. Roy's fingertips curl into his hair, around his hip, and Jason can't stop thinking about Roy begging underneath him, hot and wanting and careless - </p><p>Jason grunts when his ass collides with the table. It takes him a moment to realise why it's being pressed harder against him, then, when it clicks, he easily jolts up to sit on it, hands roaming over Roy's arms as Roy kisses him completely breathless. The table makes Jason taller than him by a couple inches, which makes it easy to sink a hand into Roy's hair and keep him close, squeeze his thighs either side of Roy's hips and pull him in to press together - Roy sighs into his mouth and lays hands on his thighs, fingers splayed wide, digging into the muscle like he wants nothing more. </p><p>"Roy, <em>Roy</em>, we don't have time," Jason pants, one hand buried in Roy's hair as Roy presses kisses down his throat, nudging his Kevlar down to reach more sweat-damp skin. "I didn't even know you were on this case." </p><p>"I didn't know <em>you</em> were," Roy replies into his jawbone, teeth scraping recklessly over the bolt of it. "I thought you just busted the one group." </p><p>"No, I'm going after the whole network." </p><p>Roy pulls away to grin at him, all teeth. His thumbs rub distracting circles into Jason's thighs, tangible even through the armour. </p><p>"So, you wanna team up for it?" He asks. </p><p>"Absolutely not," Jason says, but he can't help smiling at Roy's obvious delight. "I'm only tracking one of them. They came separately." </p><p>"Which one?" And really, Roy shouldn't be allowed to sound so <em>breathy</em> when they're discussing business. </p><p>"The one with a dye job worse than yours," Jason teases, lightly tugging on Roy's hair for emphasis. Roy lets his grin widen to sleazy, eyebrows waggled in exaggeration. </p><p>"Oh, baby, you <em>know</em> I'm all-natural," he says, rolls his hips forward sleazy, too. And goddamnit, Jason <em>does</em> know. He squeezes Roy's hips again, just to respond in kind. </p><p>"So if I tailed the other guy," Roy continues, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>"What you do in your free time is your MO," Jason says. </p><p>"And if I texted you what I found?" </p><p>Jason leans in slightly, just enough to let their lips brush when he next speaks. </p><p>"Then I'd wonder why the fuck you didn't text me about leaving dents in my wall instead." </p><p>Roy growls low in the back of his throat. It's unexpectedly arousing. </p><p>"Dents, huh?" He asks, <em>says</em>, voice pitched rough. </p><p>"I wanna lose my fucking security deposit," Jason growls back. He owns the apartment outright, but home insurance doesn't sound nearly as sexy. </p><p>Roy kisses him in response, open-mouthed and pliant in a way that makes shivers run down Jason's spine. And then he doesn't pull <em>away</em>, and Jason greedily sinks into more of it, more of <em>him</em>, places a thick-gloved hand on Roy's neck and drops the other to run over the backs of his hands, sweep his thumb over the edges of the fingerless gloves just underneath Roy's knuckles. He can feel the leather catch against his own, a slight hitch in the rub. Roy flexes his knuckles, just for him, and Jason's blood pounds with all the filthy thoughts he can manage. Roy would make a candygram outfit look good, but Jason wants to know what he looks like with just the gloves on and nothing-fucking-else. </p><p>"God, I want you to fuck me in the holsters," Roy pants, spit-slick against Jason's mouth. A laugh bubbles out of Jason's throat and spills between them. </p><p>"The holsters?" </p><p>Roy tugs on their straps, and suddenly Jason can see the appeal. </p><p>"Just the holsters," he murmurs, presses a damp kiss to Jason's slack mouth. "The holsters and <em>very</em> little else." </p><p>"God," Jason breathes. Roy chuckles. </p><p>"My friends call me Roy," he replies, and digs his fingers into Jason's thighs again. </p><p>"How about we do the damn job first?" Jason laughs, although he can't suppress his answering shiver. </p><p>"And how about instead of texting, I just swing by later?" </p><p>Jason curls his fingers around Roy's palm and guides his hand over to his crotch, pushing it against the firm plastic of the cup, buried under the fly. </p><p>"That works," he says, grins a little at Roy's punched-out breath. "You gonna let me off the table?" </p><p>"Tempted not to." Roy withdraws his hands a moment later, though, stepping back just enough to give Jason room to hop down. </p><p>Jason wipes dust off the base of his helmet with his knuckles and gives Roy a flirtatious once-over before pulling it onto his head and securing the latches. Roy adjusts his fly completely unsubtly, and Jason forces himself to keep the distance between them. </p><p>"I already put a tracker on the other guy's car," Roy says, jerking his chin in the direction of the gym. "Hopefully he'll go somewhere noteworthy." </p><p>Jason grunts in reply, tapping a series of discreet buttons on the bottom of his helmet to tune in the enhanced hearing once more, watching the gym door carefully. The guards are still skulking around, but they're slowly converging around the door, preparing to escort. So the meeting must be almost done. </p><p>"Catch ya on the flip side," Roy says, grins, shoves down the goggles, and slips out of the shed door near silently. </p><p>Jason doesn't realise there's chewing gum in his mouth until Roy's long gone. </p><p>-- </p><p>Post-tail and post-tactical notes, Jason twists and turns in front of the mirror, pausing occasionally to adjust the straps and then inspect his work all over again, from front to back. </p><p>He feels a little ridiculous, but hey, nothing says dedication more than standing buck naked in front of a full-body mirror just to see how the holsters fit with no trousers on underneath. Well, kind of totally buck naked. He's got a harness on underneath, and it's - yeah, it's a little compelling, maybe, he can see, but he plucks at the leather fitted over his thigh and thinks instead this would look better on <em>Roy</em> instead. </p><p>But it's Roy who asked, and Jason's game for almost anything. The belt hangs low on his hips, and the holsters are snug around the middle of his thighs, the straps to the belt loose enough for movement but not loose enough to sag unattractively. It's almost unbelievably light without ammo or guns weighing it down. It would feel like he's not wearing <em>anything</em>, if it weren't for the rub of soft leather against his skin every time he moves. </p><p>Maybe it's presumptuous, springing Roy's idea right back at him the same night he suggested it, but Jason can't find a reason to refuse. He hasn't even gotten in a fight today, so cleaning the holsters was an easy job, and his guns were unloaded and racked within minutes of returning home. Hell, if Roy doesn't actually show up, then it's only Jason who'll know about this entire...outfit. </p><p>And there's still the matter of nudity. He looks in the mirror at himself, at <em>all</em> of himself, and runs a hand down his abdomen, tries to replicate the warmth, the feel of Roy's hand instead, but he just doesn't have the same callouses. He doesn't mind being naked around himself. That's easy, that's doable. He traces a fingertip over his hip and imagines teasing Roy with that image, maybe dragging a finger up his thigh and flashing Roy the poutiest, most ridiculous bedroom eyes he can manage. </p><p>It would make Roy laugh, for sure. Jason huffs his own just thinking about it. </p><p>He's comfortable. He doesn't even mind that he's not wearing anything else. Maybe he could forgo the clothes around someone else, just this once - </p><p>Jason sees his mouth twist before he even realises he's frowning. He glances at himself again, tries to imagine what Roy sees instead, but it hits a warped, tangled mental block, and maybe there's some things he just isn't quite comfortable with yet. It's all wrong in his head, and it clashes with what he sees in the reflection, mars the image, the idea. </p><p>Although, he notes, it doesn't feel quite as repulsive as last time he considered getting completely ass-naked in front of someone else that wasn't a doctor. In fact, it feels less like a road block and more like a road...bump. </p><p>He's been shirtless around Roy before, a couple notable times, but - that was <em>different</em>. Roy was on his knees, he wasn't touching - and it's the <em>touching</em> Jason can't quite get over. Himself? No sweat. Someone else? Sweat. </p><p>He reaches over for one of the soft black shirts he keeps on reserve for quick changes - and then his eyes lift to his jacket hanging on the door, and an idea forms in his head before he can stop it. </p><p>Well, Roy's not the only one who can act a little slutty. </p><p>-- </p><p>Jason leans casually against the doorframe to the bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest as he patiently watches his front door across the living room. His jaw aches idly from chewing Roy's gum all night. He'd texted Roy a time, Roy had replied with a flirty <em>just showering ;)</em>, and now Jason's just waiting for him to show up. He's left the front door unlocked and the lights off, bathing himself in grey shadow. </p><p>He likes to think his whole ensemble has come together pretty well. It's the holsters - and the harness underneath - a clean shirt, and his leather jacket, the one that cuts short to fall against his ribs and not his hips, the one that's tighter across the shoulders than his other jackets. He thinks Roy might appreciate that detail. </p><p>There's a knock on the door. </p><p>"It's open," Jason calls, and lets a grin settle on his face as the knob turns. </p><p>"Well, that doesn't seem safe," Roy quips as he locks it behind him. He hasn't seen Jason yet, but he is redressed in some of his Arsenal outfit - the hat, the gloves, the boots - with a grey hoodie, partially unzipped. He takes off the hat and sets it on Jason's side table as he walks in before running a hand through his hair and turning the lights on. He lifts a manila folder, steps towards the sofa. </p><p>"They have a warehouse in the..." His eyes lock onto Jason. The folder slips out of his fingers and slaps to the sofa. </p><p>"...docks," he finishes lamely. He's staring directly at the holsters. "<em>Jesus</em>." </p><p>"My friends call me Jason." He grins wider. Roy looks a little helpless. It's kinda hot. Jason uncrosses his arms and swipes a thumb over his lower lip, watching Roy's eyes fall to his arms, dart up to his shoulders, dive back to the holsters, land on his mouth. </p><p>"You gonna come over or do you just wanna watch?" Jason asks, cocking an eyebrow. </p><p>"Oh, I'm <em>so</em> not sitting this one out," Roy says, and hurriedly unzips and shrugs off his hoodie, balling it up to toss onto a cushion as he rounds the sofa to approach Jason. He's not wearing his Arsenal outfit, but he <em>is</em> still in a tank top - actually, a shirt with the sleeves cut off - and it's got a faded band logo that Jason doesn't get a chance to recognise before Roy's kissing him. </p><p>Hands splay over Jason's middle, over the shirt, and Jason deliberately flexes his abs. Roy groans into his mouth, slides fingers down to his hips, his thighs, plucking at the holster straps, as Jason cups the back of his neck and pulls him in tighter, running another hand up under the tank top to lay flat over Roy's spine, dig uselessly into the muscle. Roy wasn't fucking joking about that shower - his mouth tastes minty, his body wash is sharp, probably a for-men black label bottle, but the softer, milder scent of shampoo undercuts it just enough to make it not overwhelming. Gloves rub against Jason's thighs. He really can't help the twitch of arousal that bolts through him. </p><p>Roy abruptly grabs his lapels and starts walking them backwards with a push, straight into Jason's bedroom - Jason slaps the lights on and pants heavily into Roy's mouth, tugging his hips in to feel Roy grind against him with a small noise. It's a good fucking thing he's already put a towel over the sheets. </p><p>"You must really like the holsters," Jason murmurs. His heel slams against something solid. </p><p>"Sue me," Roy replies, and tugs pointedly on the jacket. "This was a good fucking idea." </p><p>Jason turns them to push Roy onto the bed instead, following him down in a flurry of heated kisses and insistent hands - Roy clumsily scoots up the bed and Jason fits neatly between his legs, rucking up Roy's shirt to touch him. Roy swears and slides his palms around to Jason's ass - and then sucks in a sharp breath when they land on bare skin. </p><p>"Jesus <em>Christ</em>, Jason," he mutters. Jason wiggles against Roy's hands, inviting him to squeeze. Then Roy <em>does</em>, and Jason transmutes it into a smooth, easy roll of his hips down, against Roy's. </p><p>"What, no backtalk?" Jason asks. "No something about whistling and blowing?" </p><p>Roy tips his head back with a laugh, then, grabbing at Jason's shoulder to haul him in for a kiss. Fingers circle his wrist and bring it up between them. </p><p>"There's more than one way to whistle," Roy says, gently tucking Jason's middle and ring fingers into his palm and tugging his hand closer. Then, in a move Jason can only describe as <em>seductive</em>, he slides Jason's index and pinky into his mouth, right along his molars, and closes his lips around them to <em>suck</em>. </p><p>Jason shudders at the phantom sensation, bites back a moan when Roy swallows deliberately, a promise in the cock of his eyebrow. His hand is loose around Jason's wrist, not stopping him at <em>all</em> when Jason slides his fingers out an inch and back in, right until he bumps the soft skin at the back of Roy's cheeks. </p><p>With a shaky sigh, Jason pulls his hand out, wipes them on Roy's shirt, and ducks down to kiss him. </p><p>"Liked that, huh?" Roy teases. Jason nips at his lower lip for that, and gets to work on the button of his jeans - stupidly <em>tight</em> jeans, wow, how had he missed that - popping it after a couple fumbles to peel away black denim from Roy's hips. He shoves up the shirt at the same time and Roy pulls away just enough to tug it off and toss it to the side, his hands quickly returning to Jason's leather-clad shoulders and biceps. </p><p>With the shirt gone, Jason dips down to kiss under Roy's jaw, then make a path down his body, straight down his sternum, down where his happy trail starts blending in - Roy pants and sinks his hands into Jason's hair, watching him with mouth agape as Jason scrapes teeth over his abdomen, grins, and works the jeans down his thighs. A familiar black and yellow greets him. </p><p>"Are you kidding me?" He asks, looking up from the Batman briefs to find Roy grinning, still flushed in the cheeks. </p><p>"I thought you'd like them." Roy's voice twists into a laugh when Jason rolls his eyes. Still, just to be a tease, he rubs his cheek against the bulge underneath the fabric, and Roy's hips hitch up with a quiet <em>oh</em>. Jason repeats the move, grinds the edge of his jaw in a little. </p><p>"<em>Jason</em>," Roy pants. Jason licks his bottom lip, slow, and watches Roy's eyes track the movement. </p><p>"Y'know, I <em>was</em> gonna blow you," he says, pushing up again to continue undressing Roy. He knees over the stretched jeans and lets Roy kick the boots and denim off behind him, both landing to the floor with a clatter and a thump. </p><p>"But?" Roy asks, a grin curving up the side of his mouth. Jason pushes his underwear down, climbs over them, and leans back over Roy, hands planted either side of his shoulders. </p><p>"But I think I'm gonna wait now," he replies, hears Roy's breathing catch in his throat. </p><p>Jason reaches for the drawer and pulls out a condom and a bottle of lube, dropping them carelessly on the bed before going back for the dildo. He sits up briefly to put it in the harness, and returns to his place above Roy a moment later. To his surprise, Roy reaches down between them and wraps a hand around the toy - around <em>Jason</em>, fuck - and tugs up in a stroke. Jason's response dies on his tongue. </p><p>"Oh," he manages - then, when Roy strokes again, <em>"oh</em>." </p><p>"Took you long enough," Roy says, kissing the corner of his mouth. "It's <em>so</em> not fair when I can't get you back." He lets go briefly to fumble for the lube - Jason watches helplessly as he pours some onto his palm and puts it right back on Jason, slicking up the slide so obscenely suddenly that Jason flushes <em>hot</em> all over, from fingers to toes. Jason appreciates that he waited until <em>then</em> to touch him, even if something about it makes Jason's heart double-pulse in his ribcage. He chalks it up to the fact that Roy's bucking up against him with short little hitches, his cock bumping his own hand on every lift. </p><p>Jason sinks to an elbow and thrusts forward shakily, panting against Roy's mouth as Roy jacks him off smooth and easy, his elbow shifting against the bed while Jason fucks his gloved fist. </p><p>"Fuck," he gasps, muffles his next noise by crushing his lips to Roy's, not even caring that this is definitely getting lube <em>all</em>over the holster every single time Roy bumps the base. </p><p>"God, I could probably come just watching you," Roy murmurs. Jason shudders, clutches at the sheet beside Roy's head. </p><p>"We could test that," he pants - Roy speeds up and Jason's hips stutter on the next thrust, the head rubbing against Roy's abdomen. Jason works his other hand down between them, swiping over Roy's sticky fingers to gather up lube on his own and curl them around Roy's dick. </p><p>The next thing he hears is the scratch of nails against leather as Roy grips at his shoulder, panting a hot little <em>oh</em> into his mouth when Jason squeezes at the head, grinds his thumb into the underside - Roy's more worked up than he thought, fuck, all flexing muscle and tensed limbs underneath him, and if Jason's not careful he's gonna lose the plot in two fucking seconds. </p><p>"Jason, fuck, wait, wait, I don't wanna come yet," Roy groans, and Jason obeys, uncurling his fingers with effort. Roy lets go of him as well and wipes his hand on the towel. Jason swallows thickly while they catch their breath, then grins. </p><p>"You don't," he agrees, presses a dirty kiss to Roy's jaw. "I think you wanted me to fuck you in the holsters." </p><p>Roy growls low in the back of his throat, just like in the shed, and tugs harshly at the holster straps. </p><p>"Yeah I fucking do," he says, and scrapes his teeth filthy over Jason's lower lip. "I want you to fuck me." </p><p>The bolt of searing arousal that surges through Jason should be nothing short of <em>illegal</em>, right up there on the outlawed list beside Roy's mouth, Roy's hands, and just Roy himself and everything he does to Jason. It's like he knows what buttons to press before Jason even dusts them off, playing cocky and horny off of him as easy as a match to a flame. </p><p>"<em>Roy</em>," he mumbles, and scrambles to grab the lube, flicking it open with a thumb and fumbling between them to slick up his fingers - Roy's dry hand threads into his hair and he exhales shakily as he draws up a leg, giving Jason room to shove his hand down between them, the bottle once more discarded onto the towel. </p><p>Despite all of Roy's bluster, Jason takes it as slow as he always does. Warms the lube up in his fist and rubs a careful finger against Roy's hole, until Roy's breathing too harshly through his nose to keep kissing and has to pull away, dragging Jason's head down with him as he collapses on the pillow. Jason follows obediently, kissing Roy's open, panting mouth as his finger works in cautious circles, gradually harder, firmer, until he's pushing in with the slowest slide he can manage. </p><p>Roy's fucking <em>responsive</em> under him, his sticky hand wandering to grab at the holsters, at Jason's ass, leaving a lubey handprint over it before gliding back up to the jacket, twisting in his shirt, pulling with each heavy, panted breath, each slight moan when Jason sinks in all the way and starts working on the second finger. There's a couple moments when he crooks his fingers up and Roy moans raggedly, hips shoving down against Jason's hand and back up to rub against him. Jason drops his hips to let Roy grind more fully against his cock, groaning at the way Roy shudders in quick series, his fingers flexing so tight he's almost pulling on Jason's hair. </p><p>"Next time, I'm doing the fucking prep myself," Roy pants when Jason moves on to kissing his neck. Jason thrusts his fingers in and Roy chokes back a noise. </p><p>"It's only been five minutes," Jason reminds him. "Stop being so impatient." </p><p>"It's part of my charm." Roy tenses at the threat of a third finger, and Jason just rubs it against him, waiting for Roy to relax. He's got time. </p><p>"And part of mine is making sure you don't tear your fucking asshole open trying to get fucked," Jason snarks - Roy puffs out a laugh above him and Jason grins against his collarbone. His ring finger eases in just as gently as the first two, even if Roy does try to corkscrew his hips to encourage him to go faster. </p><p>Jason grants him that much, because his knuckles are dripping with lube and he figures if Roy's going to be this eager, he might as well get something out of it. He curls them upwards again, mostly to make Roy jump and moan weakly, and drags his teeth over the hollow of Roy's throat. Roy reaches down between them once more to take Jason in hand, slow and smooth and thorough in slicking him up. Jason groans into his skin and pushes his fingers in all the way to the knuckles, his pinky crushed and folded back up into his palm. He doesn't bother fixing it, doesn't care when Roy gives him this punched-out, pleased noise in the back of his throat. His hand stutters on Jason; Jason thrusts forward anyway, arousal curling hot inside him at the sensation. </p><p>"Jason, 'm gonna come if you keep doing that," Roy murmurs, but grinds down against Jason's hand anyway. Jason drags his focus back to what he's <em>supposed</em> to be doing and nods. Leather drags against his neck when Roy withdraws his hand from his hair, lights up his nerves all over again, and <em>god</em> Roy looks good underneath him, naked except for the gloves, handsy and grinning and irresistible. </p><p>Jason pushes himself up with a groan and slides his fingers out of Roy to wipe them on the towel - he also brings up the corner of it to clean off the toy, to Roy's amusement, and just gives him an exasperated eyebrow while holding his hand out for the condom. Roy picks it up between his index and middle fingers and wiggles it at Jason, but doesn't hand it over. </p><p>Instead, he brings it up to his mouth and rips it open with his teeth, spitting the strip of foil to the side as he proffers the open packet to Jason. It's <em>really</em> hot. </p><p>"You gonna foul?" He asks, cocky, when Jason doesn't immediately take it. </p><p>"Yeah, if you keep doing shit like that," Jason replies breathlessly, plucking the latex from the foil. Roy discards the packet with a flick of his wrist. </p><p>"I can put one on with my mouth as well," Roy says, smirking. "Well, sorta." </p><p>"Sorta?" Jason teases, kneeling on his heels as he rolls the condom on. He can feel the weight of Roy's gaze on him, pinpointing the jacket, the holsters, the way Jason strokes a hand down his cock to smooth out the condom. </p><p>"I'm out of practice." Roy lets his legs fall open wider and settles on his elbows. Somewhere out there, there's a dictionary entry for <em>invitation</em>, and next to it is this exact picture of Roy. </p><p>"I'm sure we could fix that," Jason mutters half-heartedly, far too distracted by the splay of Roy's thighs to focus on the talk - he puts his hands on them just to <em>squeeze</em>, and Roy's cock twitches against his hip. </p><p>"If you don't hurry up, I'm gonna finish this myself," Roy says, but he doesn't have a chance to move his hand before Jason shuffles up to, indeed, <em>hurry up</em>. </p><p>Roy tips his head back with a low sigh as Jason eases in, one hand steadying the base of his cock and the other braced on Roy's hips, feeling for any telltale hitch or flinch. He stops a couple inches in, waits for Roy's breathing to even out, keeps going when Roy makes an impatient noise and taps Jason's thigh with his leg. </p><p>When Jason's all the way in, Roy drops onto his back with a grunt, lifting an arm to press his forearm against the wall. The one briefly rests on the towel before grabbing the lapel of Jason's jacket and tugging him down into a kiss that's broken by panting. One of Roy's legs settles on his waist; the other stays on the bed, but clamps to his side when Jason tries a minuscule thrust, more of a twitch than anything else, and kisses down Roy's jaw. </p><p>"You good?" He murmurs when he brushes past his ear, lips tucked into the hollow underneath his jaw. </p><p>"Yeah, I'm stellar." Roy rocks his hips up in an encouraging roll, and laughs breathlessly when Jason moans against his skin, thrumming with arousal he can't deal with yet, completely discontent with the occasional brush of the harness against himself. </p><p>It takes effort to pull himself away from Roy's neck but he does, supporting himself on one hand by Roy's shoulder and planting the other against the wall. Roy sinks a hand into his hair and groans at the first thrust, pushing himself down into it with his forearm as Jason rolls easily into the second, and the third, and into the rhythm Roy guides him into, slow and easy. Sweat crops up between his shoulder blades, trapped underneath the weight of the jacket, tickles his hairline where collar meets skin. </p><p>"<em>God</em>, you look good," Roy groans. His hand slips from Jason's hair to hook in the holster waistband instead, tugging slightly to encourage him - not that Jason <em>needs</em> any encouragement, with Roy splayed out like a wet dream underneath him, all tense lines and soft angles. </p><p>"Speak for yourself," Jason manages, and closes his eyes against the shiver that runs down his spine, spurred on by the clamp of Roy's legs, by the lift of his hips. </p><p>Roy's breathing pitches ragged every time Jason bottoms out - gradually getting faster, when Roy asks for it in a murmur, pushing himself down an inch with his forearm and letting Jason fuck him back up that same inch. He opens his eyes just to watch Roy's dart over him, gaze fixed to the holsters, to the jacket - it even flicks up to meet Jason's every so often, before his mouth falls open on a rough noise and he arches up. </p><p>"C'mon, <em>faster</em>," Roy pants, <em>smirks</em>, cocky and irrationally arrogant. "I'm not gonna fuckin' bre - <em>oh</em> - " </p><p>Jason grins at the noise that tears itself out of Roy's throat, adjusts his grip to repeat that move, driving in sharper, faster. Roy smirks back, even laughs a little when Jason works in a sloppy figure-eight just to see the reaction - a groan, a flutter of lashes - and collapses onto his elbow to kiss messily up Roy's throat, mouth over the bolt of his jaw. </p><p>"Gonna come," Roy gasps, bucks up to rub against Jason's shirt. "Jason - " </p><p>"Why don't you do something about it?" Jason teases. </p><p>"You're fucking filthy," Roy groans, a laugh on the end, and moves his arm from the wall to reach down between them and jack himself off, knuckles digging into Jason's stomach on every fast stroke. </p><p>Jason drops his arm to wiggle both underneath Roy's shoulders, pulling him down into every snap-thrust so he doesn't slam his head against the wall. Fuck, he's so hard it's almost uncomfortable, rubbing vaguely against the harness when he can and moaning through his teeth when he can't quite get the friction he wants. There's a heady moment, when Roy arches up against him with a particularly shaky noise, that Jason thinks he <em>could</em> come just from this, all the air punched out of him in a rough, pathetic moan against Roy's throat - </p><p>"I'm close," he pants, bites back a whine and snaps his hips in. "Fuck, 'm <em>close</em>, Roy - " </p><p>"Jason, <em>god</em>." Roy sounds as breathless as Jason feels, hot little exhales punched out of him with every thrust. His knuckles friction-burn the shirt against Jason's stomach, but he's tensing up impossibly underneath him, his jaw tight and flexing when Jason clumsily kisses it, feels Roy's Adam's apple bob against his chin as Roy moans and comes with a sharp inhale, gasps Jason's name on the exhale. </p><p>Roy jerks up fitfully, his thighs <em>tight</em> on Jason's hips, tight enough to make the straps of the harness and holster dig into him, but Jason can't spare a thought for the sting when Roy <em>shudders</em> like that under him, the slide of his hand audibly slicker. A couple damp spots soak through Jason's shirt and stick to his abdomen, pushed onto him by Roy's fist. He mumbles a groan against the sweaty curve of Roy's neck, kissing recklessly up to where his hair sticks to the skin behind his ear, soaked darker by the heat rippling through the room. </p><p>Jason almost wants to shrug the jacket off, sweat prickling uncomfortably over his arms and shoulders, but he <em>really </em>doesn't think he can move. He already stopped thrusting when Roy slowed his hand, so now he just trembles quietly where he's buried in Roy, biding his time with his lips while he waits for Roy to tell him when to pull out. </p><p>Fingers touch his hip and Jason takes that as his cue to withdraw - except Roy stops him, curling his fingers around the holster straps and tugging Jason back into place. </p><p>"Where you going?" Roy asks, teasing and light. </p><p>"Where does it look like?" Jason's voice is rougher than he expects, even to his own ears. "'M close, don't wanna hurt you." </p><p>"You won't." Roy rolls his hips up. His smirk presses against Jason's cheek. "That was fucking <em>amazing</em>. Want you to come in me." </p><p>Jason moans weakly at the thought. "<em>Roy</em>." </p><p>"Yeah?" Roy pulls on the holster to urge Jason's hips into another slow roll. "That good?" </p><p>"Always so fucking <em>cocky</em>." Jason lifts his head to kiss Roy properly, huffing through his nose as Roy encourages a slow, grinding pace, like Jason's <em>actually</em> going to come inside him - </p><p>The fingers withdraw and reappear lower, just to the left of the harness base. Roy sighs a question into the kiss with just a noise, and Jason answers similarly, spreading his legs wider to let Roy sneak underneath the harness better. The groan that the first touch pushes out of his throat is near <em>shameful</em>; the tentative brush of Roy's fingertips sends shivers through him, keyed up and so <em>close</em> already he can practically <em>taste</em> the edge. </p><p>It works how Roy wants it to, it seems. He wiggles his thumb inside to stroke Jason properly, encourages him to thrust into his fingers - which in turn, makes Jason thrust into <em>him</em>, and it's fucking electrifying to think about Roy <em>wanting</em> this, rocking up eagerly against him even though he's already softening, his fingers slipping fast over Jason. Jason closes his eyes and whines behind his teeth, thunking his forehead down to rest against Roy's as he gets close. He can <em>feel</em> himself tensing up all over, his muscles wound tight in his thighs, his arms, even his <em>hips</em> where a particularly spine-melting stroke makes him shudder and jerk forward. </p><p>"Oh <em>fuck</em>," Jason doesn't want to admit the whiny edge to his voice, but he's hard-pressed to find any other pitch when Roy works him up to trembling, panting rough against Roy's mouth and begging for more with each fitful roll of his hips. Roy moans quietly, encouragingly, slides a hand up under Jason's jacket to claw at his back over the shirt, a filthy fucking parody of what they've done before. His nails catch and snag on the waist of the holsters and bite marks into Jason's side, coasting back up to dig into his shoulders under heavy leather, tugging him down to kiss him breathless. </p><p>"'M gonna - " he can't finish the sentence when Roy groans and kisses him harder, a hint of teeth when Jason's mouth falls slack with panting. "<em>Roy</em> -" </p><p>His jaw snaps shut with a rough moan when he jerks and comes, hips stuttering on their next thrust in. The sensation from Roy's fingers rips up his spine in a blaze of heat; he shudders with it and ducks to bury his face in Roy's neck, gasping out a soft <em>oh</em> when Roy presses an ankle to his ass and pulls him in to make them flush - Roy grunts when Jason's hips meet his, but doesn't make any indication of wanting him to leave, so Jason doesn't. </p><p>He doesn't know if it's the desperation of this round, or the pure erotic <em>thrill</em> of being buried in Roy when he comes, but it seems to wash over him in conflicting waves, too sensitive one second and not enough the next, twitching fitfully into Roy's fingers as Roy deftly works all the aftershocks out of him. He groans against Roy's throat at a particularly strong shudder. </p><p>Between one stroke and the next, the sweep of Roy's fingers brushes up against something <em>painfully</em> oversensitive - Jason gasps and murmurs a <em>stop, stop</em> that Roy obeys easily, giving Jason's cock a fond little tap before withdrawing to settle on his hip instead. </p><p>"That good?" Roy mumbles into his hair, squeezing Jason's hips with his thighs. </p><p>"<em>Yeah</em>," Jason sighs. "Should wear the holsters more often if it gets me this." He shuffles up and back to pull out, holding the condom on as he carefully slips out of Roy, who groans and flattens his legs to the bed. His fingertips are pruny when Jason catches a glimpse of them, which - yeah, yeah that matches how <em>slick</em> Jason feels between his legs, his cheeks heating without his permission. </p><p>"Oh, you don't need the holsters for <em>this</em>," Roy assures him, hooking his fingers in the straps and tugging as if to illustrate his point. "Although they look <em>fantastic</em> on you. Definitely better than my imagination." </p><p>"You thought about this?" Jason tucks the condom into its packet and discards it somewhere to his right. </p><p>"I think about you a lot," Roy answers, his grin wicked and sharp. "You're one of my top ten shower buddies." </p><p>Jason snorts, lowering to his elbows again to settle comfortably above Roy. </p><p>"Only top ten?" He teases. Roy scrunches up his face and tilts his head in thought. </p><p>"Top five," he replies, his expression melting into laughter when Jason does. "Okay, okay, top two." </p><p>"Top <em>two</em>?" Jason arches an eyebrow. "I'm not number one?" </p><p>"Oh, you're number one," Roy says, nodding along. "I'm just unwilling to give up Jason Momoa." </p><p>Jason bursts into renewed laughter, thunking hie forehead against Roy's chest. Roy shakes below him, his fingers carding carefully through Jason's hair as he tries to form words. </p><p>"What?" He giggles. "Maybe I have a thing for Jasons." </p><p>Jason wheezes incoherently into Roy's sternum. </p><p>"You can<em>not</em> judge me," Roy protests, tugging playfully on his hair. "Maybe I want to be in a Jason sandwich. A man's private fantasies should be a judgement-free zone." </p><p>"As long as - " Jason struggles to speak around his hiccuping, dissolving into new giggles at his pathetic attempt. "As long as I'm number one." </p><p>"Oh, definitely. You give the best head I've ever gotten." </p><p>"That's your baseline? Head?" </p><p>"I mean, so far you haven't fractured my wrist, so I'll also count that as a win - " </p><p>"<em>Fractured</em>?!" </p><p>"Hey, I don't hold it against her, it's not her fault she has super strength!" </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning light is muted through the curtains, casting a faded version of sunshine over the bed and floor. Jason's awake, but only lazily, propped up on an elbow and watching Roy's chest rise and fall with his deep, even breathing. He's on his back, the sheets pushed down to his waist, and he never did put on a shirt after last night, huh. </p><p>There's a lot of details about Roy that Jason missed the first time, finer points that fit neatly in alongside what little he already knows of Roy, like shading in a barebones sketch. The faint, but determined, smattering of honey-blond in his hair, the long-healed track marks on the inside of his left arm, turned up and exposed to the light of Jason's bedroom. The jagged scar above his right hip, something painful and lancing, and the tattoos that swirl over his shoulder, engulfing it in a pretty storm of ink and patterns that Jason can't decode. He'll have to ask him someday. </p><p>Idly, he taps his fingers along Roy's right arm, sweeping his thumb against the grain of hair just to fidget. </p><p>"You can ask," Roy says, curling and uncurling the fingers of his left hand. His voice startles Jason out of his thoughts - and his gaze, he realises, from the inside of Roy's left arm. He hadn't meant to stare. </p><p>Roy looks almost unguarded like this, looking up at Jason with eyes that are a deceptively innocent blue, his face relaxed, but there's a certain apprehension in the edges of his mouth that Jason recognises from his own reflection. </p><p>"No," Jason says. He stops moving his thumb. "Do you want me to?" </p><p>Two faint frown lines form between Roy's eyebrows. </p><p>"Not really," he admits. "I don't wanna talk about it yet."  </p><p>Yet. Jason's not an idiot. He knows what trust sounds like - and he knows what Roy's not quite saying. Trusting him not to press. </p><p>"Never's fine, too," he says, and lets the topic drop with the lazy smile Roy gives him. </p><p>"So why'd I wake up to you ogling me?" He asks, the mirth in his voice betraying his amusement. </p><p>Jason shrugs one shoulder. "Can't a man enjoy the view?" </p><p>"Well, normally I'd say yes, but you aren't one for just <em>looking</em>." Roy raises an eyebrow. "You're usually all action." </p><p>Jason plucks at the bedsheet, sweeping his gaze down Roy's torso. </p><p>"I haven't had a chance to just <em>look</em> yet," he says, letting a smile tip up the corners of his mouth. "Maybe I want to admire you." </p><p>Roy withdraws his arm with a laugh from Jason's hold to stretch them above his head, and rolls over to bury his face into the pillow, scooping it up into his arms to puff it up. </p><p>"Admire away," he says, settling into the bed with a contented sigh. Jason runs his thumb over a swell of ink on his shoulder. A neat line of text runs around one of the spirals, but Jason doesn't recognise the language. He squints at the accent marks, gentle slants over well-rounded letters. </p><p>"What does this say?" He asks, brushing his finger over the words. </p><p>"It's Navajo," Roy answers, muffled into the pillow. "It's a name." He pauses, and a moment later. "Brave Bow." </p><p>"I didn't know you knew Navajo," Jason murmurs. Roy snorts. </p><p>"I grew up in the Tachini tribe." </p><p>Jason blinks. "Wait, are you - " </p><p>"No." Roy wiggles into the mattress. "They took me in after my dad died." </p><p>Jason stays quiet for a long moment, tracing another fluid spiral. </p><p>"I'm sorry," he says. </p><p>"Not your fault, but...thanks." </p><p>Jason lets the silence lull between them, stretching into something less sombre and more comfortable as he explores. He toys with some of the hair at the nape of Roy's neck, twisting honey-blond around red and letting it fall loose against his skin once more. Roy hums pleasantly at it. Jason's fingers trail lower, skipping over the knot of scar tissue just under Roy's left shoulder blade and smoothing down the uninterrupted curve of his spine instead. He hasn't got many scars - perks of being long range, Jason guesses - and his back is mostly unmarred except for the shoulder blade and a collection of small cuts over his ribs. Jason's familiar enough with scars to identify them. Shoulder blade: gunshot wound. Ribs: knife tips that scraped too close. </p><p>His fingers hit the sheet soon enough, the tips ghosting over the small of Roy's back. Jason briefly tickles along the line of it, making Roy wiggle and chuckle underneath him, reaching back to bat uselessly at his arm. Jason relents and Roy's arm disappears under the pillow once more, making himself comfortable. </p><p>Jason pulls at the edge of the blanket as a warning, edging it down Roy's ass just a little, but Roy doesn't protest - he nods, in fact, into the pillow, so Jason flips the sheet off to expose him fully. Roy's naked, because Jason was <em>not </em>allowing the Batman briefs into his own damn bed, and Roy had shrugged and <em>guess I'm going commando, then</em>. Although there <em>is</em> a surprise waiting there for Jason, and it occurs to him he's never actually had Roy laid out on his front for him before this moment. </p><p>"How'd I miss this before?" Jason traces his finger over the outline of the tattoo, which is just as ridiculous as Roy's Arsenal outfit. It's a pink cartoon-y heart, with a red arrow plunged diagonally through it. It's small, only an inch and a half square. And it's smack on the lower left of Roy's left asscheek. Somehow, it suits him. </p><p>"When'd you get it?" Jason asks. Roy hums and lifts his head from the pillow to glance over his shoulder. He smiles lazily. </p><p>"It was a dare from an ex," he says, pillowing his cheek on his hands once more. "Donna." </p><p>Jason pauses, his finger on the tip of the arrow. "As in Troy?" </p><p>"As in Troy." </p><p>"Huh." Jason smooths over the tattoo with his palm. "Didn't know you dated your teammate." </p><p>"Dated a couple of them." Roy looks at him again, raises an eyebrow. "You haven't ever dated yours?" </p><p>"Most of mine are family," Jason points out. "Or family-adjacent." </p><p>"Good point." </p><p><em>A couple of them</em>. Jason rubs over the arrow tip with his thumb, lips pursed in careful thought. He doesn't really care about Roy's past, but he <em>is</em> just a little bit curious - </p><p>"Did you ever date Dick?" He asks. </p><p>"No." Roy rolls over onto his back, settling his arms underneath his head as he looks at Jason. "He's not exactly my type." </p><p>"Your type?" Jason climbs up to lay beside him, nudging in on the same pillow. </p><p>Roy looks him up and down and smirks. "Single." </p><p>Jason rolls his eyes. "<em>Before</em> Wally, then." </p><p>"That's my point," Roy says, drawing a leg up. "There <em>is</em> no before Wally. As far as I can remember, he's only ever had eyes for him." </p><p>"Huh." </p><p>Roy's lips quirk up in a mischievous grin. "We could go on a double date with them sometime." </p><p>Jason latches on to the completely irrelevant point of that sentence. Never mind facing his brother. </p><p>"You wanna take me on a date?" He asks, deadpan, lifting an eyebrow. </p><p>Roy pushes himself up on an elbow and pins him with a look.  </p><p>"Yeah, I wanna," he says. </p><p>"What, buy me dinner?" Jason asks dryly. Roy tips his head back with a laugh.</p><p>"Nah, that's not your speed," he says, a carefree grin settling on his face. Jason snorts. </p><p>"What <em>is</em> my speed, then?" </p><p>Roy glances out at the bedroom, tilting his head in consideration. </p><p>"I'll find something." </p><p>-- </p><p>Lukewarm air drifts through the window, cracked just a sliver to help air the smell of curry lingering in Jason's kitchen after dinner. It ruffles the papers on his desk in the corners, but they're sufficiently held down by a collection of markers and pens and a tablet. Roy's manila folder lay empty to the side, its contents laid out in front of Jason like a conspiracy board. It's been a long couple of hours collating and filing all his info together, from the two pushers they followed to the group that left in the street for the police. And "they" is <em>not</em> a team-up. It's just coincidence. </p><p>Jason caps the marker in his mouth and sets it down by the tablet with a sigh, marking a similar circle on the digital map to match his efforts on paper. He misses having access to a Batcomputer, sometimes, but Bat-tablet is close enough. He could always phone Dick if he really needs the help, or Tim. Or Damian, if he's not wrapped up in a mission with Bruce. On second thought, Steph's probably a safer option, although Jason doesn't know where in Gotham she hangs out nowadays. Maybe Duke, or Cass - </p><p>Or Roy, if Jason's willing to admit defeat. </p><p>He reviews his papers again and shakes his head. He's not close enough to despair to grant Roy that satisfaction yet. But his legs are starting to cramp from being cooped up at the desk, so he pushes himself to standing and stretches with a groan before kicking the chair aside. He pulls the window shut on his way by, then heads over to the little balcony. He disarms the alarm before opening the glass doors, and lets the curtains billow behind him as he steps out to the city. Where his apartment rests on a hill, most of it is ground floor, but the balcony hangs over where the pedestrian path falls away and dips down the incline of the hill. The roof of the next building is a little higher than his balcony, but otherwise, there's nothing in front of it, just the road beneath and spread of some of the city before the horizon gets blocked off by office stacks. </p><p>Jason leans against the railing and pats down his jacket pocket on instinct, then pauses when he remembers there's no longer a pack of cigarettes in there. He huffs a laugh at himself and idly rubs his bicep where the nicotine patch rests. He can feel it peeling at the edges already. </p><p>Even though he's supposed to be taking a break, he can't help but try and map his conspiracy theory board to the little of the city he can see from here. The docks are to the south - his left, too far away to see - and the school they met at was at the west end of town. So really, nowhere near his informal sort of base in Gotham East, but then again, they shouldn't have tried to deal at the public school in this district. </p><p>He turns his gaze to the rooftops to the north. They're mostly office buildings, and all darkened by this hour, save for a few floors for cleaning. Traffic is the same as always, not jammed but still plenty of cars chugging along. Sometimes he wonders if he'll see someone swinging about the skyscrapers, or a familiar cape-and-boots silhouette running on the horizon. </p><p>Or, more recently, the telltale outline of a bow. </p><p>God, he's ridiculous. It's only been two and a half weeks since he <em>met</em> the guy, and the first time was more flirting than business, and the second was...well, okay, more of the same. It's almost unbelievable how well they just <em>click</em>. It's effortless in a way Jason's only ever really felt around Dick, or Tim, after he got over his misplaced jealousy. And Vic, because he makes League team-ups actually <em>bearable</em>, and Jason thinks in another life he's probably best friends with the guy. </p><p>Except Jason still hasn't whistled, and Roy still hasn't called, and he doesn't know if he's supposed to be waiting for Roy to come up with that date - or if Roy's gonna come up with that date at <em>all</em> - but maybe if he can't stop thinking about him, then it's not a bad idea to text him after all. </p><p>Jason takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up Contacts to click on <em>Cupid ;)</em>. </p><p>-- </p><p>"It's weird that I'm still dressed," Roy says, dropping down on the sofa beside Jason. He looks effortlessly handsome even swinging by at eight p.m. on a whim and a text from Jason. </p><p>Jason laughs with him and sets down his offerings on the coffee table, chosen with Roy back in his kitchen, where Roy's keys and jacket now lay on the breakfast counter, discarded almost as soon as he came in. </p><p>"A few sodas, as promised," he says. "And whatever the hell's on TV." </p><p>Roy grins and reaches forward to snag one of the cans, tapping thrice on the lid before easily popping it open. Jason follows his lead to grab a bottle of beer and the opener instead, tugging the bowl of popcorn closer to the edge of the table on his way back. Roy grabs the bowl entirely and plops it down between them on the sofa, smiling at Jason as he settles into the cushions. </p><p>"All right, what's on?" </p><p>"No idea," Jason turns the set on and plunges his hand into the bowl without looking as he flips through channels. </p><p>Eventually they settle on an action film - it's not one Jason's heard of, but it's got a bland protagonist and generic shootouts, so he likes it well enough. Roy does, too, evidently, laughing at the bad one-liners with him and kicking his feet up on the coffee table beside Jason's. He even nudges their feet together during the slow bits. </p><p>It's...really nice. Jason hasn't had someone over in <em>months</em>, and even then, the last person was Tim. Not many people drop by nowadays, and fewer want to be seen with a wanted man in the field. </p><p>Except Roy. Roy's a <em>Titan</em>. He's one of the good guys. The best. Dick's vouched for that time and time again. </p><p>So Jason doesn't really get why Roy would willingly tarnish his reputation in Gotham, of all places, for Jason, of all people. He's always dropping by Jason's fights, or at least offering a quick assist from a rooftop, and there's no way the police <em>haven't</em> profiled him yet. There's probably a wanted poster with a drawing of his stupid cap on it in the precinct. </p><p>"Gonna be honest, I'm barely following the plot," Roy admits, gesturing at the TV. "I thought that guy died ages ago." </p><p>"This is before that," Jason replies, then frowns. "I think. But they had something about visions - " </p><p>"Yeah but he's not a <em>prophet</em>." </p><p>"But <em>she</em> - " Jason points at the character, " - talked about the gun runners, and he only saw those in whatever the fuck was going on." </p><p>"So they're real." </p><p>"But that guy's still alive." </p><p>"You said that was a vision - " </p><p>"And we're <em>past</em> where the vision should...be? God, I don't fucking know." Jason slumps into the sofa with a sigh. Roy snorts quietly at him. </p><p>"Maybe if we don't think about it too much, it'll come to us," he offers. "Maybe they'll give us all the answers at the end." </p><p>"It'll be bullshit if they do." </p><p>Roy tips his head back with a laugh - Jason grins at him around his bottle, and his chest feels tight when Roy returns it in full. There's no hat to take off this time, but Jason wants to kiss him stupid anyway. </p><p>Instead of that, instead of anything, he puts the empty popcorn bowl back on the table. Roy scoots in. Jason closes the gap, and the warm press of Roy from shoulder to thigh is the best feeling in the world. </p><p>On-screen, the action scene fragments and cuts out to a black screen, confusing both of them. When it fades back in, the main character is sitting in a plastic chair, elbows on his knees, and the camera pans out to reveal a group of people around him, with a few 12-step posters plastered unsubtly on the wall behind him. </p><p>"So did he get the guy or <em>not</em>?!" Roy exclaims. "I thought that was real!" </p><p>"This might not be real," Jason points out, then scoffs as the camera swivels onto the other actors in the group. </p><p>"Swear to god, is the AA just an old dudes' meet-up?" he says, tipping his bottle at the screen. Roy doesn't reply, scooping up his soda to take a sip instead. </p><p>A few confusing minutes later, Roy jabs at the screen. </p><p>"He doesn't have his scar," he declares. "So that was fake." </p><p>"So that first lady isn't dead?" Jason pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "I can't fuckin' keep up with this." </p><p>"It's okay, buddy, I'm right there with you." Roy pats his shoulder, in consolation. A moment later, his stomach grumbles. Jason raises an eyebrow at him, and Roy shifts in his seat. </p><p>"I - shut up, I haven't had dinner yet," he says. Jason's other eyebrow joins its brother. </p><p>"Do you want something?" He asks. </p><p>"I don't want to hassle ya - " </p><p>"I changed my mind, I'm not asking," Jason says, to Roy's visible amusement. "<em>What</em> do you want?" </p><p>"Whatever's easiest." Roy grins at him. "As long as I don't have to watch the rest of this movie." </p><p>"Then you're getting a sandwich." Jason pushes himself up to stand and grabs the empty bowl. "And pick whatever you want. Xbox is HDMI 2 if you want to play something instead." </p><p>He disappears into the kitchen while Roy flips channels. The bowl gets rinsed and set by the sink for washing later before he peruses his fridge for ingredients, tapping his fingers in a subconscious pattern against the handle. </p><p>"Are you allergic to anything?" He calls. </p><p>"Nope!" </p><p>Jason nods to himself, grabs a new beer, and closes the fridge to clear the counter first, idly thinking over his choices in the back of his mind. He's not sure what Roy likes, but he can't really go wrong with the leftover chicken slices from yesterday, he figures. </p><p>Jason goes to swipe Roy's keys to the side, and then pauses when a silver disc catches his eye. Without thinking, he reads the inscribed text, and - oh. </p><p>It's a sober chip. Two years. </p><p>
  <em>Swear to god, is the AA just an old dudes' meet-up?</em>
</p><p>Oh, Jason's a fucking <em>asshole</em>. </p><p>"Hey, what's taking you so long?" Roy swings around the doorway with a smile on his face, his soda held delicately between two fingers. His eyes slip down to where Jason's still holding the chip. </p><p>"Sorry," Jason blurts out, pushing the keys aside. "About what I said earlier. I didn't realise - " </p><p>"It's okay." Roy shrugs, smiles at him like Jason didn't make a glaring faux pas not fifteen minutes ago. "That chip's from years ago. I'm way past two now." </p><p>"That's good," Jason says, genuine. He looks up at Roy to find him gazing thoughtfully at the keys, brushing his fingers along the counter. </p><p>"Thanks," he says quietly. </p><p>Jason glances at his unopened beer bottle on the counter. Part of him wants to silently switch it out for soda, but the sensible part of him knows he should just ask. Roy's an adult. </p><p>He waves at the bottle. "Do you mind if - " </p><p>"No," Roy cuts in smoothly. He offers Jason a small, but sincere smile. "I don't mind people drinking around me." He gestures vaguely, then clears his throat. "Although I would...appreciate if you didn't get drunk." He drops his hand, and his mouth settles into a line. "But it's your home, y'know, so. I can always let myself out - " </p><p>"I don't get drunk anyway," Jason interrupts, fingers twitching with the insane urge to reach over and grab Roy's wrist. "Just - let me know if I ever make you uncomfortable." </p><p>Roy nods after a moment, his fingers stilling against the counter. Then, as if shrugging off a jacket, he turns to Jason, all smiles again. </p><p>"I believe I was promised sandwiches?" He says, cocking an eyebrow. Jason snorts a laugh and pulls out a couple plates, setting them on the counter. </p><p>"I've only got chicken," he says. "But if you're handy with a knife, there's cheese somewhere in the fridge." </p><p>"Oh, I'm handy." Roy grins at him, something playful and sharp all at once, and Jason can't help the bubble of laughter that rises in his throat, spilling out before he can stop it. </p><p>"I'm familiar," he teases, pulling a knife out to hand it to Roy. Roy spins it in his palm and jabs at Jason with the blunt end. </p><p>"And don't you forget it." </p><p>--</p><p>Roy stays the night. They don't do anything during the night, but in the morning? Yeah, stuff happens in the morning. It's lazy, it's an idle shower, it's slipping back into bed and it's Roy asking for it and then Jason rolling him over and prepping him so goddamn lazily Roy almost comes from that alone before Jason finally withdraws and shuffles up on his elbows above Roy to push in slow. </p><p>Jason's dropped so low on his elbows that it's more like grinding than thrusting, his chest bumping Roy's back with every slight roll of his hips - Roy's breath hitches on every third one, and he's definitely staining the sheet underneath him where the position forces him to rub against it for friction. Jason pants into his ear and Roy groans softly, eyes screwed shut and face scrunched up in that way it does when he's about to come. His hips twitch more urgently underneath Jason, grinding harder against the sheet. Jason's knees feel weak with the rush of heat that shudders through him. </p><p>"Fuck," he breathes, tucked into the curve of Roy's neck and shoulder. "You're <em>hot</em>." </p><p>"I'm gonna come, Jase," Roy pants, turning to bury his face in the pillow. "Oh <em>god</em>." </p><p>Jason stutters in his rhythm, throbbing against the base of the harness, and Roy muffles a <em>fuck</em> into cotton. Jason can't help thinking of the last time they did this, although that was a lot more frantic and a little less - </p><p>"Hey, didn't I promise you I'd get back to that blowjob?" He murmurs, kinda just to wind Roy up a little. </p><p>Roy tilts his head to spit pillow out of his mouth. "What?" </p><p>"Last time," Jason continues with a pointed grind. "With the holsters." </p><p>"<em>Oh</em>." </p><p>"I could make good on that now," he adds. "What d'you want?" </p><p>Roy moans quietly. Jason shuffles his knees up a little and presses in - Roy shudders and pants, his eyebrows furrowed. </p><p>"Fuck, I don't know," he says. Swears on the next thrust. "I want <em>both</em>, shit." </p><p>Jason pauses. Actually, they <em>could</em> do both - </p><p>He reaches down and unclasps the straps keeping the O-ring in place and smoothly detaches it and the dildo from the harness, keeping it pressed into Roy with a hand on the base as he scoots back to give him room. </p><p>"Roll over," he says, and watches Roy's eyes flick open and his mouth part on a groan when he realises what Jason's done. </p><p>"Jesus Christ, you're gonna be the death of me," he grunts, rolling onto his back. </p><p>Jason just grins, wicked, and settles in on his elbows to wrap a hand around Roy's dick and level it with his mouth. The tip is wet against his lips, and tangs against his tongue when he sinks down slow onto it - Roy bucks and moans raggedly, one hand clawing at the bedsheets, the other shoving Jason's hair out of his eyes. Jason pulls the toy out a couple inches and pushes it back in, enthralled by all the little reactions it earns him, from the cock twitching against the inside of his cheek to the way Roy jerks and pants. </p><p>"Jason, I'm - " Roy sucks in a breath and <em>whimpers</em> at the next thrust of the toy, angled deliberately upwards. Jason smirks around his mouthful and hums in quiet acknowledgement. He digs the point of his tongue into the soft underside just to make Roy squirm, rocking gently between the toy and his mouth, watching him with something akin to <em>fascination</em>. </p><p>They should <em>really</em> do this more often. Jason wasn't expecting to like it so much just working with his hands, but it's something else <em>entirely</em>. It's something about the filthiness of it, where he fucks into Roy and sucks noisily, where he can snap his wrist in and grind up much more pointedly than with his hips, where it makes Roy moan and jolt and leak against his back teeth, desperation spelled out in every tremble of his muscles. </p><p>There's a part of Jason that wants to drag this out, but the larger part of him is already bobbing faster on Roy and twisting the toy ever-so-slightly to the left just to hear the noise that falls from Roy's lips. </p><p>Roy still tugs on his hair in warning, Jason ignores it, and Roy comes two seconds later with a loud moan and an abrupt shiver, thighs twitching and fingers clawing at the bedsheets when Jason nails the toy in to the hilt and fucks Roy with it in a sharp, snappy thrusts, counterpoint to the slowing of his mouth, to a chorus of Roy's hitching panting and <em>ah-ah</em>s. Jason swallows, grinds the toy in, and swallows again at the belated spurts of come that bead onto his tongue from that, his name caught between Roy's teeth like a prayer. </p><p>"Fuck," Roy pants. Jason licks over his slit and pulls the toy out slow only to slide it back in again. This time, the expletive is <em>whined</em>. Roy shifts against the bed at the sensation, his face pinching up together when Jason rubs it in a circle. Probably oversensitive, probably too much, but Roy doesn't pull him off or tell him to stop yet. In fact, he hisses these little sounds through his teeth, almost pleading, and twitches against Jason's tongue. </p><p>The next time Jason twists the toy, Roy shakes his head and tugs on his hair. Jason slowly, carefully pulls the dildo out and lays it on the bedsheets he'll have to change anyway. Roy slumps to the bed with a relieved sigh, his chest rising and falling with heavy breath as Jason kisses the side of his cock. </p><p>Jason wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist and scoots up the bed to collapse beside Roy on his back, one hand splayed over his own ribs as he stares at the ceiling and counts their breaths. He turns to admire Roy in the aftermath, his cheeks still tinged red and his lips still parted, but his eyes are closed. He looks almost peaceful. </p><p>And the afterglow is nice, albeit sweaty, but there's something prickling at the back of Jason's mind, growing more insistent in the passing seconds. </p><p>"Roy." </p><p>"Mm?"  </p><p>"Do you want to top?" </p><p>Roy cracks an eye open and rolls his head to turn to Jason. Jason stares back unblinkingly. </p><p>"Do you want to bottom?" He asks back. </p><p>"...no." </p><p>"Then it's settled." Roy faces the ceiling again and closes his eyes. "What you don't want is more important than what I might like, Jase." He grins. "Anyway, I can always use a fleshlight." </p><p>Jason thinks about that image for a long second. </p><p>"Could I watch?" He asks, mouth dry. Roy barks out a laugh. </p><p>"Watch? I'd hope you were <em>touching</em>." </p><p>Jason thinks about <em>that</em> image for a much much longer second. </p><p>"Do you have one?" The words slip out before he can stop them. Roy's mouth slants into a sharp smirk, his eyes still closed. </p><p>"What kinda man would I be without one?" He jokes, and nudges Jason's foot with his own. "I'll bring it over sometime." </p><p>--  </p><p>"You think this is more my speed?" </p><p>Roy glances at him from the corner of his eye, an amused smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. </p><p>"Was I wrong?" He asks. Jason laughs. </p><p>"Nah, you're pretty spot on," he says, rising up on his tiptoes to look over the crowd, flowing and weaving along the food and drink stalls before settling into the audience area. There's even a couple of merch stands. </p><p>Jason doesn't go to concerts very often, usually due to a lack of time or company. Busting criminal rings in southeast Gotham doesn't afford him the most convenient free time, and with most of his family on a similar fluctuating schedule, they don't have a lot of chances to meet up for planned events. Family time is mostly unplanned swing-by, or an early morning bailing before Wayne Enterprises opens for business. </p><p>But for Roy, Jason can carve out the time. There's no leads that need to be investigated tonight, and no time-sensitive cases on his hands. </p><p>"Who's playing?" Jason asks. </p><p>"I don't know the band," Roy says, fishing his wallet out. "But it seemed like a good time." </p><p>Just then, the person in front of them shuffles away with their drink, and the queue shifts up by one. </p><p>"Hi, what would you like?" The stall guy asks, spreading his hands at the display of bottles lined up on the counter. He's wearing a bright blue shirt with Budweiser plastered across the chest, and his wristbands carry an assortment of liquor brands. </p><p>"Hey, yeah, do you have Sprite?" Roy asks. </p><p>"Sure do," the guy answers, and glances expectantly at Jason. "And you?" </p><p>Jason surveys the bottles, skipping the alcoholic cluster to eye up the soda cans gathered at the left end. </p><p>"Uh, yeah, Dr. Pepper," he says. Then, a beat later, "please." </p><p>"No problem." </p><p>The man plucks two plastic cups off of a tower and two cans out of a mini-fridge behind him. He cracks open the cans right in front of them and pours them expertly into the cups, not a drop spilled when he hands them over with a winning smile. Roy exchanges pleasantries, money, and a <em>keep the change</em>, and then his hand slips into Jason's to walk them away from the booth. </p><p>"Dr. Pepper?" Roy pulls a face. "Really?" </p><p>"Hey, fuck you," Jason says amicably. He squeezes Roy's hand and relishes the wiggle of fingertips against his knuckles. Then just to wind him up, he takes an exaggerated gulp of the Dr. Pepper and blows on Roy's nose. </p><p>Roy huffs and laughs. "I'm starting to question your taste." </p><p>Jason grins. "My taste got you this date." </p><p>"Point taken." </p><p>They settle into a standing row on the right side, jostled together by the moving crowd and leaning into each other to make sure their drinks don't spill. It also makes it easier to hear Roy, so sue him if Jason moves just that slightest bit closer to put his ear to Roy's mouth, if his breath catches at the contact of Roy's lips moving against his cheek. </p><p>Before long, the band marches out onto the stage, loud and friendly and shouting into the mic. It's easy to get swept up into their enthusiasm, buoyed by the audience's response, and Jason definitely doesn't recognise the band but their music isn't bad, and Roy's wiggling next to him with a silly dance, and it's <em>fun</em> to knock into him and laugh with him and try and refuse when Roy starts nudging his shoulder in time with the verse. </p><p>The band's got a projector screen above the stage to show clips that lead in to their music - snippets of their music videos or random thematic sequences filmed in preparation. It's strange, but oddly fitting with their loud, drum-heavy music, which kicks in just as the visuals fade out. The crowd's friendly as well, cheering along with choruses and not-quite moshing in the middle. Most of them are holding open-top plastic cups of beer and there's a couple plumes of cigarette smoke trailing up into the night sky. </p><p>Roy knocks his shoulder again to get his attention, and jerks his chin at the wave starting at the other end of the crowd. A couple of his fingers bump Jason's, hooking around his knuckles, and Jason laughs with him when the wave passes through them, Roy lifting their linked hands in time with the group around them. </p><p>When it passes, Roy doesn't let go of his hand. Jason presses their palms together to curl his fingers around Roy's, and an elated little thrill goes through him when Roy squeezes in return. The song fades out, and the neon lights of the next clip catch the curve of Roy's lower lip, highlighting the slant of his smile when he meets Jason's eyes. </p><p>He doesn't even realise he's leaned in until they're jostled by someone moving behind them, bumping them forwards - the person apologises, Roy dismisses it with an easy laugh. Jason's cheeks burn at the interruption, his gaze lingering on Roy's mouth for an inappropriately long moment before turning back to the stage. The music starts up again, and Jason quietly resolves to find <em>some</em> way to kiss Roy before the night is over. A real, first-date kiss, not the prelude to their nights - and days - together. </p><p>But for now, he's content to just be by Roy's side while they sway with the crowd, holding his hand and tapping their cups together before drinking. Roy's nose crinkles in disgust when Jason swigs his Dr. Pepper, and Jason teases him about his bland Sprite, and it feels so natural he almost forgets the butterflies that erupt in his stomach whenever Roy flashes him a smile. </p><p>The next clip starts up in the silence of the band that follows; the screen lights up with a dingy view of wired C4, bright red numbers counting down from thirty on it. The suspense is palpable in the audience. There's a very quiet beeping with it as well, like a heartbeat - </p><p>
  <em>What hurts worse, A? Or B?</em>
</p><p>"Jason, are you okay?" </p><p>
  <em>Now B? Or C? C...or B?</em>
</p><p>"Hey, excuse me, thanks - " </p><p>
  <em>Forehand or backhand? </em>
</p><p>-- </p><p>When Jason realises when he is again, he's sitting on a curb in a car park. The concert thumps away in the distance, all shredding guitar and catchy vocals. Roy's beside him, a careful inch of space between their shoulders. It's silent. </p><p>"It's usually fine on jobs," he says, and his voice is weak and - he sniffles, and when had he started <em>crying</em>? He buries his face in his hands - his <em>wet</em> face, cheeks damp against his palms, already cooled from the night air. </p><p>"It's not - " he tries, and his breath catches, and his eyes grow damp in the corners and another shaky breath later, it spills over again, warm against his fingers. Roy presses a wad of napkins against his hand and Jason takes one hand away just enough to grab them and press them to his face, against the bridge of his nose. </p><p>"It's okay," Roy says, gentle, calm, <em>soothing</em>. "I'm sorry, I didn't think - " </p><p>"You didn't know," Jason mumbles. "<em>I</em> didn't know." It doesn't happen often, and never on a job, but maybe that's because he's expecting to run into something like that, he's already steeled himself for the worst outcomes, but - but something about that particular beeping - soft, steady, heartbeat - was too similar to - </p><p>"Sorry," Jason murmurs miserably. His voice cracks in the middle. </p><p>"You don't have anything to be sorry about." Roy scoots half an inch closer. Jason can feel the heat radiating off of him, so close but still not touching. Without speaking, Jason reaches out for Roy's wrist and pulls his hand over to rest on his shoulder. Roy squeezes it warmly. It's a comforting anchor point on Jason's half-unreal body. </p><p>He starts rubbing small circles on Jason's shoulder blade a few moments later - Jason sucks in shaky, but measured breaths against the napkins and focuses on the sound around them, on the detached music, on Roy's quiet breathing, on the sound of birds squawking high up in the air. He doesn't even realise he's leaning into Roy until he turns his face and his jaw hits Roy's shoulder. He slumps against it, then, dropping his hands from his face and balling up the damp napkins in his palms. He focuses on a spot of rough asphalt between Roy's shoes. </p><p>Jason sniffles to clear his nose, and huffs out a humourless laugh. </p><p>"Sorry for ruining our first date," he says. His voice still comes out thick. </p><p>Roy's shoulder shakes minutely under him, accompanied with an amused rumble in his chest. </p><p>"You didn't ruin anything," he replies, plucking the napkins out of Jason's fidgeting fingers to press them into an empty plastic cup sitting by his feet. He returns with a half-empty cup of clear, bubbly liquid and bumps it to Jason's knuckles. Jason frowns, glancing between that and the empty cup - which has brown residue soaking into the napkins. His Dr. Pepper. </p><p>"I thought you didn't like Dr. Pepper," he says, curling steadier fingers around the Sprite cup. </p><p>"I didn't have any water on me." Roy places his hand on Jason's knee. "I figured you'd like something a little plainer than Dr. Pepper afterwards." </p><p>Jason sips the Sprite. It's cool and refreshing - a little flat, but yeah, Roy was right. He does appreciate something calmer after...that. </p><p>"Thanks." </p><p>Roy squeezes his knee in response. Jason crinkles the plastic in his hands just for something to do. Liquid rises up and threatens to spill over the edge, then retreats when he loosens his grip. </p><p>"How long was I...?" He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to. </p><p>"Maybe five minutes?" Roy glances back over their shoulders at the concert. "They're just finishing up the song we left on." </p><p>"Hm." </p><p>Jason uses the inside of his shirt to wipe his face again, scrubbing at the dried tear tracks. He finishes the Sprite in one long swallow and crumples the cup to set it down by the other one. </p><p>"You can ask," he says, glancing up at Roy. It feels like what he should say, even if his heart's not in it. Roy slips his hand into Jason's and squeezes with a shake of his head. </p><p>"No." He cocks an eyebrow. "Do you want me to?" </p><p>Jason...doesn't know. It's no secret how he died. He has no clue how much Roy knows. </p><p>"Not yet," he murmurs. Roy hums in acknowledgement. </p><p>"Then just tell me if there's anything I need to know," he says. He gives Jason a smile, gentle and soft where it curves up into his cheek. "Do you want to go home?" </p><p>"We can go back," Jason says, gesturing to the concert. "I don't want you to miss out on it." </p><p>Roy scoffs fondly. "I was never here for the gig, Jason." </p><p>Jason regards him carefully, weighing up his next move. He's still shaken up, although the residual sinking feeling in his chest has lessened some. </p><p>Home sounds nice. </p><p>"Then if it wouldn't be too cheesy," he starts, squeezing Roy's fingers in return, "can I kiss you?" </p><p>A soft laugh bubbles out of Roy, but his cheeks pinken in the streetlamp. </p><p>"Of course," he says, and Jason kisses him to a backing track of applause and drums. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You have the right to remain silent." </p><p>Jason huffs as metal clicks painfully tight around his wrists. His breath steams up the glossy paint job of the deputy's car, a brief fog before the night air chases it away. At least he's not out as Red Hood tonight - it would be a <em>pain</em> to get arrested as a vigilante. And he's not even a well-liked vigilante. Screw them, he gets <em>results</em>. So boo hoo, some drug runner's gonna have a scar in the shape of  tranq dart on his neck, who the fuck cares. </p><p>"...afford an attorney, one will be provided for you." </p><p>He won't get to the attorney stage. It was a fucking <em>bar brawl</em> of all things, and he didn't even start it. He's just the one they caught, thanks to a well-timed ankle to his shin from one of the other fleeing patrons. They have nothing that'll stick on him. He's not even carrying any weapons tonight; he's not stupid enough to walk into the seedy end of town with a <em>weapon</em>. There's always a cop hanging around looking to get his authority dick wet, and Jason just happened to be the unlucky suspect this time. </p><p>"I said, do you understand these rights - " </p><p>"Yeah-huh," Jason grunts, shifting underneath the weight pinning him. He bites his tongue on the reply he <em>wants</em> to say - <em>better buy me dinner first </em>- and stays smart instead. "'m invoking my right to stay silent, and I'm not talking to you without a lawyer present." </p><p>He endures a quick and unflattering pat-down, then is hauled back by the chain on the cuffs and shoved into the backseat, left to stumble his way upright as the deputy strides around to the front door. </p><p>He tries to chat with Jason on the way back, trying to draw answers out of him, but Jason keeps his jaw shut and his hands together, staring soullessly out the window on the way back to the southeast precinct. </p><p>The southeast GCPD precinct is a lot more drab than the more central one closer to northwest, where the Commissioner works. Down here, the only action they see is drugs or abuse, and those have pretty easy resolutions. Especially with Wayne-funded police reforms rounding out the force. Jason appreciates the work Bruce has put into Gotham in that regard, with the forcible changes to police training and mandated counsellors to work with them. It helps get a lot of people out of trouble. </p><p>Although when it comes to small fry like Jason punching a guy (one guy!) in an all-out bar brawl, the process is still pretty much the same. He gets marched in to the dingy reception desk, he gets pushed into an uncomfortable plastic seat while they sort out paperwork, and he gets to admire the decor. </p><p>Southeast is pretty much how he remembers it from last time - which wasn't all that long ago, really. There's a cork bulletin board with informational posters pinned on it, all official phone numbers and safety tips and fire routes. There's also a few wanted posters tacked up alongside them. Two-Face. Riddler. Red Hood. </p><p>And next to Hood, a rough sketch of a man with goggles and a backwards cap and a bow and arrow. Jason snorts with laughter. So they <em>do</em> have a wanted poster for Roy. Except the only text on it is HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?, so at least they don't know his names. </p><p>The deputy shoots Jason a dirty look. He shoots one right back, then rigidly goes through his due process, extensively illegible signatures and all since he doesn't have fingerprints. Fake ID, fake name, and he's processed in under <em>Jackie Tiller</em> so that no one knows Jason Todd is actually alive. </p><p>He trudges to the cell block with a stern hand on his arm. It's quiet tonight, no prisoners shouting from the bars or jangling their doors. There's a couple people asleep in the drunk tank, and a few closed counsellor doors with lights on inside and hushed conversations that Jason hears only murmurs of as he passes them. </p><p>"Enjoy your stay," the deputy says, practically pushing him into the cell. Jason sneers at him and slumps down on the metal bench as the lock drags shut. The deputy leaves without another word, his shoes thud-thudding neatly on the floor. </p><p>Jason sighs and leans against the wall. Well, it'll only be a night, and at least he's got the cell to himself now. They'll post his bail by tomorrow morning, and he'll have to face getting freed and picked up by either a disappointed Bruce or a Dick caught between concern and disappointment and trying to act unbothered by it all. Or maybe an exasperated Tim, like the other couple times he's bailed Jason out. Or, that one memorable time, Damian. Now <em>that</em> was actually <em>fun</em>. </p><p>He glances idly into the cell beside him, through the double set of bars, and his heart stops in his chest at what he sees. The cells are bathed mostly in shadow, apart from shitty yellow fluorescents, but there's no mistaking the curve of that brim, the set of those shoulders - </p><p>"Roy?" Jason asks, leaning to the side to try and peer into the cell. </p><p>"Hey-o." Roy shuffles over into the light and waves at him with a crooked smile. He's dressed in his Arsenal outfit. Fuck. Guess they got their wanted man. </p><p>"What the fuck are you in here for?" Jason hisses. He knows there's an officer on duty at the door, and he also knows that they'll shamelessly listen in if you speak too loudly. </p><p>Roy shrugs, a lazy motion, as if he isn't sitting in a <em>jail cell</em> as <em>Arsenal</em>. "Territory fight." He jangles the cuffs on his wrists. "Ran into a couple of your dealers. It's nothin' bad. What are you in for?" </p><p>Jason groans and tips his head back against the wall. "Bar fight." </p><p>"You? Starting bar fights? I don't see it, Todd." </p><p>"I didn't <em>start</em> it, I was just the one that got caught." He rolls his shoulders. "It was self-defence more than anything." </p><p>"Hm." </p><p>The cell block is silent except for them. Casting a look around, Jason can't see anyone else held here apart from the sleeping drunks much closer to the door. </p><p>"Gotta say, it's pretty shit for a second date," Roy jokes, raising an eyebrow. Jason coughs out a laugh. </p><p>"I was hoping to take you somewhere nicer for that," he says, turning to Roy. Roy grins, handsome and snarky but sincere in all the sneakiest ways. </p><p>"Hoping?" </p><p>Jason clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, hoping." </p><p>Roy drags a finger down a dusty prison bar, flashing him a teasing look. "You wanna tell me where you were <em>hoping</em> to take me?" </p><p>"I haven't decided yet." He has. It's bowling. He glances at Roy's outfit again, scuffed at the knees but otherwise not particularly beat-up. </p><p>"A man of mystery, huh? I like it." </p><p>-- </p><p>" - can <em>prove</em> it!" </p><p>Jason's head pounds with the intensity of the light streaming through his barred window. The reflection of it on metal hurts to look at, it's so bright. </p><p>With effort, he pulls himself upright on the bench, grunting as the muscles along his entire right side complain loudly about the uncomfortable position he was sleeping in all night. </p><p>"He's telling the truth," Dick says sternly - <em>Dick</em>? <em>Dick's</em> here? But why is he arguing - and why is he dressed like <em>Nightwing</em>? </p><p>"I'm sorry, but we can't - " </p><p>"He's one of the Titans," Dick snaps, although his pose is deliberately non-threatening, and he's gesturing to - the cell beside Jason. Oh yeah. Roy. <em>Roy</em>. </p><p>Jason looks over to see Roy smiling sheepishly at the sheriff, waggling his fingers in a wave. </p><p>"Look, his tattoos match, for one," Dick continues, holding up a tablet - Jason can't see what's on it, but Dick's pointing something out on it to the sheriff. "And so do the weapons, and the - " </p><p>"We can't prove he's not a copycat," the sheriff replies shortly, pushing the tablet away. "I'm sorry, but we cannot allow you to post his bail. Can you prove you're the real <em>Nightwing</em>, anyway?" </p><p>Dick huffs in frustration, and Jason can see how much he wants to tear his hair out. But he stays calm, and he stays civil, and he directs the iciest look he can towards the sheriff. </p><p>"I don't <em>have</em> any copycats," he bites out through gritted teeth. "None of them match my tech. And Arsenal here is one of the <em>Titans</em>. Call Manhattan PD if you have to, but he's the <em>real deal</em>. He's helping you." </p><p>"We need more than one testimony," the sheriff insists. Dick sucks in a breath through his nose and turns to Roy. </p><p>"Please tell me you have evidence," he says. Roy breaks out in a smile. </p><p>"I thought you'd never ask, 'wing." He pulls a hidden USB from somewhere in his gauntlet and hands it through the bars to Dick, who mostly looks like he could throttle Roy. </p><p>"Here you go," he says to the sheriff, strained. "Plug it in and it'll prove his innocence." </p><p>"Even if this man is the real Arsenal," the sheriff says, taking the USB, "he's been sighted with Red Hood a lot recently. I'm sure you're well aware Red Hood is a wanted offender in this area. Arsenal's an <em>accomplice</em>." </p><p>Dick doesn't glance at Jason, but he can feel him bristling across the room. </p><p>"Red Hood isn't a criminal," Dick says firmly. "He's on your side." </p><p>"He doesn't work with us," the sheriff spits. "And he is a repeat offender. Do you want me to list his charges?" </p><p>"You can skip it." Dick jerks his chin at the laptop on the guard desk. "Watch the evidence." </p><p>The sheriff does. Jason can't see it from this angle, but a conservative nod from Roy tells him all he needs to know. It's legit, and it'll get Roy out scot-free. </p><p>The only problem is Jason. If Dick's here as Nightwing, then he can't be here as Dick Grayson, older brother, and Jason's going to be irritated if they just <em>leave</em> him here. For once, he's almost buoyed by the idea of Bruce walking through the cell block doors any moment as a "separate" appointment. </p><p>Bruce does not appear. Dick argues with the sheriff some more, then makes copies of the evidence, then they organise Roy's bail, and Roy steps out of his cell with glee. The disgruntled sheriff unlocks his handcuffs with distaste. </p><p>"You're free to go," he mutters. Jason glares at Dick and Roy, but then Dick turns and gestures to him. </p><p>"What's with him?" He asks the sheriff. The sheriff gives one look at Jason and  shrugs. </p><p>"A fight," he grumbles. "I know you don't get this kinda traffic up in Gordon's domain, but this here's a regular occurrence." </p><p>"Is his bail posted?" </p><p>The sheriff gives Dick the stink-eye. After a long silence, he answers: </p><p>"Yeah-huh. Five grand." He grins nastily. "There was a whole lot of alcohol in that bar." </p><p>"Just a fight? I'll pay it," Dick says. The sheriff sighs and reluctantly beckons him to follow. </p><p>Before long, they return to reception with the key to Jason's cuffs, and he's rubbing his wrists as they walk out of the station together. Roy's still attaching all his various gadgets to himself when they convene in a nearby alley. </p><p>The first thing Dick does is lightly punch Roy in the arm. </p><p>"Hey!" Roy protests, rubbing his bicep. Dick snorts a laugh. </p><p>"Getting arrested? That's a rookie move, Roy," he says, smiling fondly at him. </p><p>"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," Jason jokes dryly. </p><p>"At least <em>you</em> were arrested civilian," Dick says, grinning at him. It falters for a split second, familiar exasperation bleeding through. "But c'mon, play nice with the police." </p><p>"They're too slow," Jason says, short, clipped. </p><p>It's an argument they've had plenty of times, and it's not one Jason wants to rehash in front of Roy. Without his uniform, and with the other two fully suited up, he feels an awful lot like the third-wheel younger brother, sniping at his sibling and stubbornly crossing his arms and facing off against his brother and his best friend. Which is ridiculous to feel like that, because he's in his fucking twenties and one of the most threatening vigilantes out there, but sometimes he still feels like the smallest in the room. </p><p>A frown tugs at the corner of Dick's mouth, and Jason can feel the air between them catch and spark with whatever Dick's about to say next. </p><p>Except he never does say anything, because Roy defuses the situation just by stepping over to stand by Jason instead. </p><p>"I've been running this case back up north just to get forensics done faster," Roy says, calmly, evenly. "They're too overwhelmed down here with their normal cases to take ours on." </p><p><em>Ours</em>. Jason doesn't miss it - and neither does Dick, because he loses the frown and tilts his head at Roy. The simmering tension melts away with the quirk of his mouth. </p><p>"So you guys are a team now?" He teases. "Lots of <em>recent sightings</em>?" </p><p>"No," Jason says the same time Roy says "kind of". They glance at each other and Roy breaks into laughter a second after Jason sighs. Dick snickers with them. </p><p>"More like a bad penny," Jason says, flashing Roy a smile. Without the goggles on, he can see where Roy's gaze lingers on him for a beat too long - and so can Dick, but he doesn't comment. </p><p>"Well, if you're both okay, I'm late for work," he says instead, checking the watch on his gauntlet. "I'm not usually Nightwinged up at seven in the morning." </p><p>"Do you want a ride over to Blüd?" Jason asks, because, hey, he <em>did</em> bail him out. Dick grins and shakes his head. </p><p>"Nah, I got a ride," he says, and presses the communicator in his ear. "Wally - " </p><p>A blur of red vibrates to a stop beside Dick, already wearing a shit-eating grin. </p><p>"Can you give me a ride?" Dick asks. </p><p>"Not the first time he's said that to him," Roy murmurs to Jason, who stifles a hysterical giggle. </p><p>"Blüd?" Wally asks, and whisks Dick away before Jason can even see him nod. </p><p>It leaves the alley suddenly silent, only a faint breeze stirring in the wind. </p><p>"Metas. Always showing off, huh?" Roy jokes, gesturing to where Wally was standing not two seconds ago. Jason chews the inside of his cheek on the frankly awful response he has to that. Roy notices, and laughs. </p><p>"What?" He asks, turning to face Jason. "What're you thinking?" </p><p>"Just that I thought I was doing pretty good at sweeping you off your feet anyway," Jason says, and Roy explodes in laughter. </p><p>-- </p><p>"So," Roy says, leaning on the other side of Jason's breakfast counter in borrowed sweats and a stolen shirt. He looks like Jason didn't just suck him off in the bathroom, which is honestly a little remarkable, because Jason's joints are still tingling from the reciprocation. "Last night was fun." </p><p>Jason grabs an orange from his fruit bowl and grins at him. "Before or after we got to mine?" </p><p>Roy chuckles. "Both." He casts Jason a long look. "But the before was pretty great, too." </p><p><em>Before</em> was the bowling, an irresponsible amount of pizza, and ripping into Roy for being a terrible shot with anything that isn't a bow and arrow. It was also Roy tugging Jason in for a kiss between bowling rounds, all second-date thrill and permission <em>granted</em> on touching whenever they wanted. </p><p><em>After</em> was staying up too late on a zombie movie, joking about not putting out until the third date, and putting out anyway, the laziest handjob Jason's ever given and received. Halfway through the movie, pressed up on his sofa, and gasping Roy's name into his mouth fifteen minutes later with his own fingers still sticky-wet. </p><p>It was, by all standards, the best second date Jason's ever had. </p><p>"Are you busy tomorrow?" </p><p>"Tomorrow?" Jason digs a thumb into his orange peel and shrugs. "I'm tracking a couple leads in the morning." He rips off a section of peel and places it on the counter. "They'll probably run into the afternoon." </p><p>"What about evening?" </p><p>"Nothing planned." Jason glances up at him. "Why?" </p><p>"There's a charity thing over at City Hall tomorrow night," Roy says, raising an eyebrow. "In Star City. You wanna be my date?" </p><p>Jason scoffs. "Your date?" </p><p>Roy rolls his eyes and waves a dismissive hand. "It's - Dick's making all the Titans go. I might as well have someone fun with me." </p><p>"How fancy is it?" Jason sighs, leaning on the counter opposite Roy. Roy looks up in thought. </p><p>"You got a tux?" He asks, eyes falling to meet Jason's. </p><p>"No." </p><p>"Get something close enough," Roy says, and winks. "Gotta make sure I got the hottest date in the room." </p><p>"If we went by your definition of hot, I'd be in assless chaps." </p><p>"Hey, what can I say, you have a nice ass." </p><p>Jason splits his orange into pieces and laughs. </p><p>"Already asking me on a third?" He teases. Sort of hopes. Roy's smile makes his heart flutter in his chest, and Jason so desperately wants to chase it as far as Roy will let him follow. </p><p>Roy grimaces. "I want to do something better for our third." He flashes Jason one of those heart-fluttery smiles. "Can it be our second and a half?" </p><p>"Second and a half," Jason repeats, amused. "Yeah, I'll go." </p><p>-- </p><p>The gala is <em>huge</em>. City Hall is packed out with people - mostly society figures, named politicians, unnamed reporters floating around them, CEOs, CFOs. The police are in attendance, as guests, along with an assortment of medical professionals, from doctors to nurses to counsellors to therapists. An expected assortment, for a fundraiser for the Youth Addiction Resource Center - Jason cranes his head to read the banner hung across the back wall of the lobby, which has a collection of phone numbers and the centre's address written in neat blue text on the righthand side. </p><p>Jason doesn't get out to Star City often, so he doesn't recognise any of the guests except for the other Titans, sprinkled in like familiar lighthouses in the swarming crowd. He catches a glimpse of Oliver and Dinah talking animatedly with some of the counsellors, but doesn't see much more before Roy smoothly tugs him out of the path of a cocktail waiter. </p><p>Roy hasn't strayed from Jason the entire night, either. They arrived about an hour ago, towards the beginning of the event, so Jason got to watch people trickle in while Roy chatted idly with people he knew through Oliver. </p><p>And if Jason's honest, Roy looks <em>good</em> tonight. He could make holey socks look good, but the suit he's wearing tonight is in a completely different league than his usual stuff. It's not even a suit, it's a <em>tux</em>, a full tux, with a charming red bowtie. Jason feels shockingly underdressed in comparison, a suit and a red tie, but he's glad he took the extra time to find all the fittings for his suit, from the tie pin to the cufflinks - blue topaz, a gift from Tim, but Jason chose them because they match Roy's eyes. He hasn't mentioned that yet, but he thinks Roy's noticed, the same way Jason's noticed they <em>match</em> in that way that dressed-up society couples do, matching colour ties and complementary colour cufflinks. </p><p>Complementary because Roy's are green. Bright green. Lazarus Pit green. The same green Jason sees in the mirror every morning when he shaves. </p><p>In short, Jason hasn't been paying much attention to the conversations Roy's stopped for. But Roy never stayed long for them, and they've since retreated to the balcony level, on the landing that curves around the lobby in a huge semicircle to converse quietly between themselves. They lean against one of the railings towards the end of the semicircle, looking out across the landing. From here, Jason can see the left side of the lobby below, where the buffet table and seating areas are. </p><p>"I always forget how busy these are," Roy says, tugging on his bowtie. </p><p>"I've seen worse," Jason jokes, nudging his elbow. He remembers some of Wayne Manor's swankier dos - and that memorable time it was selected to host some award show, with so many celebrities that Jason honestly considered calling up Clayface to break it up. It was more than a little stifling. </p><p>Roy laughs, genuine and sunny. "I bet." He stops fiddling with his bowtie and glances at Jason. "Then I'm glad I don't <em>live </em>here as well. I don't know how Bruce handles it." </p><p>Jason beckons him closer. Roy leans in obligingly. </p><p>"There's a closet on the way to the kitchen, opposite the guest bathrooms," he says. "It's a very good hiding spot." He grins. "I've found Bruce in there loads of times." </p><p>"Well, I didn't think I'd ever being going <em>back</em> into the closet," Roy jokes. Then tilts his head. "Wait a second, if you found Bruce in there - " </p><p>"All of us use it," Jason explains. One memorable time, he walked in for some peace and quiet and found every single member of the family already in there together, including Alfred. It's a bit ridiculous, since the closet isn't the biggest storage space, but it's pretty funny to stumble on someone else in there. It's worth divulging the family secret to hear Roy giggle delightedly. </p><p>Jason's just debating on whether or not he should steal a kiss when they get interrupted by a swish of deep blue fabric. Donna - and Lilith on her arm, in a simple black dress with silver star earrings that match the silver star embroidery on Donna's...ballgown, for lack of a better word. It has elegant, delicate mesh across the slight plunge down her cleavage, and the skirt looks like <em>silk</em>, falling straight to the floor and complete with a slit up one thigh. </p><p>Jason's met them before, in passing through Dick more than anything else, but it never fails to surprise him how effortlessly charming the Titans can be, at complete odds with the pranks they used to pull in the manor whenever they visited. </p><p>"Hello ladies," Roy jokes, nodding to their outfits. He raises his glass of water to them. "You look good." </p><p>"Hey, she's my girlfriend now," Lilith says through a laugh. "Don't get any ideas about stealing her back." </p><p>"As if anyone could <em>steal</em> Donna," Roy replies. Donna snorts with laughter. </p><p>Roy opens his mouth to say something else, then glances at Jason, raises an eyebrow, gestures subtly to the couple in front of them. It all happens in less than two seconds, but it takes two seconds more for the cogs to turn in Jason's head and realise Roy's asking for <em>permission</em>. Jason nods without hesitation. </p><p>"Anyway, I'm here with Jason," Roy says, smoothly covering the four-second lull in conversation. "You remember him." </p><p>Lilith rolls her eyes. "Of course I do." She holds out a hand to shake, and Jason takes it with a laugh. "It's good to see you again." </p><p>"Yeah, it is," he agrees. When he glances to Donna, who's chatting with Roy, he sees her eyes flick from their matching ties, to the complimentary cufflinks, to how closely they're standing, and he watches the realisation dawn on her face. So does Roy, because he shoots her a playful glare. </p><p>"You know you can't hide up here for long, right?" Lilith asks Roy, who groans. </p><p>"Stop reading my mind," he says. She laughs. </p><p>"I didn't have to for that." </p><p>"And now I'm getting harassed by you two," Roy adds. Donna rolls her eyes, all fond amusement. </p><p>"Don't worry, we'll get out of your hair soon," she assures him, reaching out to touch Roy's forearm. "Just wanted to let you know we made it out here." It's an odd choice of words, for an event Dick supposedly invited them all to, but Jason doesn't dwell on it. </p><p>At least, not until Roy laughs, and does he sounds <em>nervous</em>? Jason glances at him, but Roy doesn't meet it, focusing on Donna and Lilith instead. </p><p>"Thanks," he says, genuine, and Jason suppresses the automatic frown he wants to make. </p><p>"I didn't expect it to be so crowded," Roy continues, peering over their heads at the crowd - Jason also glances over the edge of the landing, packed full with fancy suits and elegant dresses. By a buffet table, Jason can see Dick and Wally carefully crafting a shared plate of snacks. </p><p>"I hadn't expected anything else," Donna says, smiling warmly at him. Then her grin turns wicked, and she nudges Jason's foot with a strappy heel. "And I better see more of you, Jason." </p><p>"Hey, that's up to Roy," he laughs, knocking her ankle in return. "But you're always welcome in Gotham." </p><p>"I thought Batman didn't like metas," Lilith jokes. All four of them burst into laughter. </p><p>"That was before Dick started dating one," Jason supplies, and Donna collapses against Lilith with giggles. </p><p>"I'm gonna get her some napkins before she cries and ruins her mascara," Lilith says, petting Donna's shaking shoulder. "C'mon, Donna, I think they even have those weird fruit pots you like." </p><p>"See you," Roy says, and waves them off into the crowd, their laughter trailing behind them like smoke. </p><p>Jason relaxes against the railing, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets. The brief oddness of the conversation lingers in his mind, from Donna's words to Roy's nervous laugh, and he's just thinking of the best way to ask about it when Roy interrupts his train of thought. </p><p>"Guess it's a good thing I'm not a meta then, huh?" He asks, grinning at Jason. "You think Bruce could handle two of his sons dating one?" </p><p>Jason smiles automatically in response - then coughs, and his smile falters. He glances away from Roy. </p><p>"He, uh, he doesn't actually know about you," he says awkwardly. He wants to add <em>yet</em>, but that feels too hopeful for their currently distant relationship. Which isn't exactly a secret, so - </p><p>"We don't - talk much. I thought you knew," Jason continues, turning to Roy once more. Roy shrugs, but even Jason can tell it's forced. </p><p>"I don't really know anything," he replies. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, as if thinking of his next words. "I only know what you've told me." </p><p>"And Dick." </p><p>Roy shakes his head. "Dick doesn't tell us much about you guys." Then, hurried, "it's nothing <em>bad</em>, he just doesn't want to - violate your privacy, or whatever." He lifts a hand to rub the back of his hair. "And I'd rather hear it from you than snoop." </p><p>Huh. Jason's surprised - he assumed Dick would have vented to the Titans about family issues, about Jason's death, and there's no reason to hold back any of the wider details, not in the superhero community. Most people Jason's met know how he died, in detail. Word spreads. Word also spreads of how the Red Hood and Batman are never sighted together. So that Roy doesn't know is...a surprise. A pleasant surprise, if he's honest. Jason hasn't had much chance to just <em>meet </em>someone, no baggage attached. </p><p>Jason swallows thickly and rubs a hand over his mouth. The unfortunate side of Roy not knowing his business is now Jason has to find a way to <em>explain</em> it, and there's no neat, concise way to do so. </p><p>"Then - yeah, we don't talk much." He sighs. "He's still - I still like him, y'know? I owe him a lot, and he's always there if I really need it, but it's just...awkward right now." </p><p>Something about growing up too fast, something about the lost days, the lost <em>years</em> between the Pit and his return to Gotham, and if Jason's honest, there's a quiet little part of him that's scared he'll never be able to fully reconcile with Bruce, that there'll always be this weird, distant disconnect between them, a gap he can never bridge. </p><p>"I don't <em>need</em> to know," Roy says, softly, kindly. "If you don't want me to." </p><p>Jason's tongue sticks to the floor of his mouth. He's used to keeping secrets, to keeping his private life <em>private</em>, and it would be easy to retreat into that shell again, to take it all back and stay clammed up - </p><p>But it's tiring. It's easy enough with strangers, with acquaintances - but it's so, so <em>tiring</em> with family, with friends, with boyf - with whatever <em>Roy</em> is. </p><p>"I want you to," he says quietly. He wants Roy to know why he lives in southeast Gotham, to <em>understand</em> that it's more than just where he grew up, that it's the farthest from Bruce he could get without leaving the city, that he's tied to Gotham in a way Dick <em>isn't</em>, that this is his hometown, that he can't <em>leave</em>. That he's still connected to the city, and to Bruce, and to all the problems he grew up with, that it'll take more than Batman to fix those deep-rooted issues that Bruce just doesn't understand in the same way Jason does. </p><p>"Then I'm listening," Roy says, equally quietly, and Jason's shoulders feel suddenly lighter, a weight he didn't even know he was carrying lifted off of them. </p><p>"It's complicated," he says, and smiles at Roy. "And probably a conversation for a better time." </p><p>"What, a fancy fundraiser gala isn't the best time for airing out your personal shit?" Roy teases, slanting a glance his way. Just like that, the mood feels lighter again. Jason watches Roy smile wide enough to emphasise the dimple on his left cheek, and he wants to feel that smile against his own. Roy tips his head forward, and Jason tilts right - </p><p>"Hey, it's looking great so - oh, shit, sorry." The voice appears out of nowhere and startles them apart - soon followed by Garth, slipping in front of them with ease. </p><p>"Is this a bad time?" He asks, but his grin is sunny and bright and sparkling with mirth. </p><p>"It always is when you're around," Roy jokes, and laughs when Garth rolls his eyes. </p><p>"Yeah, I missed you too, Harper," he deadpans. "Tower's been nice and quiet since you've been gallivanting around Gotham." </p><p>"I'll be back before you know it," Roy teases back, but the sentence makes a cold pit of dread form in Jason's chest. </p><p>Logically, he knew Roy was only in Gotham temporarily, only for a case. Otherwise, he deliberately hadn't given it much consideration - the case is still active, and Roy's made no mention of leaving, and - and honestly, Jason's been having too much <em>fun</em> to think about if - <em>when</em> Roy leaves Gotham. </p><p>A laugh brings Jason back to the conversation, blinking away his stray thoughts. </p><p>"So no plus one?" Roy asks, grinning. Garth shrugs. </p><p>"Couldn't get one in time," he answers, then glances around the floor. "Maybe I'll find someone else's." </p><p>Jason laughs with them on that one, and Garth flashes him a bright smile. </p><p>"You're Jason, right?" He asks, and Jason nods, raking hair out of his eyes. </p><p>"He's the second one," Roy clarifies. Then, directed to Jason, "Garth spends way too much time underwater." </p><p>"Hey, I still got here in time, didn't I?" Garth jokes. His smile softens a moment later, and he claps Roy's shoulder. "Although seriously, it's looking great, Roy. You did a good job." </p><p>A brilliant smile lights up Roy's face. "Thank you." </p><p>Jason <em>does</em> frown, this time, but Roy doesn't look his way. He clears his expression back to pleasantly neutral in time for Garth to see him. </p><p>"Well, hey, don't let me interrupt you," Garth says, gesturing between them. "I've got a date with the buffet table." </p><p>"Say hi to Dick and Wally for me," Roy says, and once they make their goodbyes, Garth slips back into the crowd just as smoothly as he had appeared. Roy's chuckles die down as they continue surveying the crowd, his shoulder pressed comfortably against Jason's. </p><p>Except the Titans' odd comments keep snagging Jason's attention. <em>Just wanted to let you know we made it out here...it's looking great, Roy. You did a good job.</em></p><p>He doesn't need to be the world's greatest detective - or even fifth greatest - to piece the unspoken puzzle together. Why the gala's in Star City. Why Roy's been stopping to chat with random people. Why most of the Titans have made a personal appearance to compliment him. </p><p>"This isn't Dick's event," Jason says, casually leaning against the railing. He glances at Roy. "It's yours." </p><p>Roy sighs, setting his sparkling water on the delicate end table beside him. "Yeah." </p><p>Jason waits patiently for the rest. He fixes his gaze on Roy's profile, on the attractive sweep of his hair back behind his ears and the heart-swoopingly familiar angle of his jaw. </p><p>"I organised the fundraiser," Roy admits. "And I asked the Titans to come. For support." </p><p>"Why didn't you tell me this was your event?" Jason asks. Roy looks away, his fingers drumming an uncharacteristically  nervous pattern against the hollow bronze railing. He huffs a heavy breath. </p><p>"I didn't want you to feel pressured into coming," he says, hanging his head. "As my date. The organiser's date. Whatever." </p><p>Jason frowns. He doesn't like seeing Roy like this - withdrawn, nervous, <em>anxious</em>. Playing off a big charity event just so Jason wouldn't feel <em>pressured</em> - </p><p>Roy's sweet, really, but Jason never wanted to say no. He swallows his pride - fuck what anyone else thinks, or sees - and reaches over to lay his hand atop Roy's. </p><p>"If I'm right," he starts, "you didn't need to formally invite the Titans," he says. "They would have come anyway." </p><p>Roy swallows and nods hesitantly. </p><p>"So would I," Jason adds smoothly. Before he can stop himself, he leans in to kiss Roy's cheek. </p><p>"You didn't have to," Roy mumbles. Jason lingers by Roy's cheek for a moment more. He's not an idiot. He can connect the dots between Youth Addiction Resource Center and the marks on Roy's left arm. </p><p>"It's important to you," he murmurs in his ear. Roy nods again. Jason cups his jaw and kisses him on the lips, short and chaste. </p><p>"Then I'm here," he finishes, and pulls away to lean against the railing once more, still holding Roy's hand. </p><p>"Thank you," Roy says, and smoothly flips his hand to curl his fingers around Jason's. "I was...actually really nervous about tonight." </p><p>"I don't think you need to be anymore." Jason jerks his chin to the lobby below them, teeming with people. "You've managed to fill the room without calling the League." </p><p>Roy laughs, and a knot of tension eases in Jason's chest at the happy sound. </p><p>"Just the Titans," Roy replies. Jason laughs with him and looks out at the crowd - at <em>Roy's</em> crowd. There's something between inspiration and pride stuck in Jason's throat, but he doesn't voice it. Just squeezes Roy's hand, and relaxes again him, and watches Roy's event unfold below them. </p><p>While people watching, he spots Oliver and Dinah still immersed in conversation, Garth chatting to a couple people by a column, Donna and Lilith talking animatedly with the mayor, and Dick and Wally sequestered on a private table with their snack plate between them.  Dick's looking straight at Jason, and Jason just <em>knows</em> he's fucking smug. He can see it in the arm propping up Dick's chin on the table. </p><p>Jason flips him off across city hall and Roy laughs so hard he almost topples them both. </p><p>-- </p><p>To Jason's surprise, they teleport back to the Batcave after the event. It's how they had arrived in the first place, but Jason was expecting - he doesn't really know what he was expecting, but it wasn't going home, and it definitely wasn't Roy <em>asking</em> to go back to Jason's. The taxi ride back to his street is quiet, comfortably so, their fingers entwined on the seat between them in the flittering flash of streetlights. </p><p>Once they're back in his apartment, the quiet continues. They toe off their shoes at the door, hang up their jackets, and Roy only breaks the silence once they're halfway through undoing the cuffs of their sleeves. </p><p>"Thanks for coming," he says, and in the grey darkness of Jason's apartment, his expression slants to the sombre side of genuine. Jason opens his mouth to reply, then closes it when Roy's eyebrows twitch into a furrow, and the familiar curve of his mouth tips a little downwards. </p><p>Jason steps forward to close the gap between them, placing his hands on Roy's arms and rubbing up and down in a small motion. He tips his head forward so his lips hover by Roy's cheek, nudges him fondly. </p><p>"Of course," he murmurs. Roy presses on nonetheless. </p><p>"They - helped me a lot, when I was younger," he says, and his fingers twitch into fidgeting fists. "When I - " </p><p>"You don't have to tell me," Jason interrupts. Bites his tongue at the words that want to follow, that want to <em>soothe</em>. Drops his hands instead to curve around Roy's waist and pull him in for a hug, palm pressed between his shoulder blades. </p><p>Roy's fingers dig into his spine while he drops his head to rest on Jason's shoulder, and his next breath comes out shaky. </p><p>"Sorry," he mumbles, gives a humourless laugh. "Sorry, I always get like this after their events. It's just - seeing it again, all my old counsellors, and - fuck, Ollie's been showing up for years but it still - " he breaks off with a hitched breath and clutches at Jason tighter. Jason's ribcage feels too small for everything he wants to say. </p><p>Jason presses his cheek to Roy's head and squeezes him. He's not exactly famous for being comforting - that's more Bruce's thing, when he pulls his head out of his ass, or more Steph's. Jason's not the one people go to, but he's the one <em>Roy's</em> going to, even though he's sure Roy's probably much closer with the Titans, or the other Arrows. His <em>family</em>. </p><p>"'S okay," Jason says, for lack of anything better to say. "And stop fucking apologising." </p><p>That gets a little huff of laughter out of Roy. A few seconds pass in silence, just Roy's breathing and Jason's heartbeat. </p><p>"Ollie didn't - like it, at first," Roy mutters. "He didn't react well." He presses his nose harder into Jason's shoulder. "He kicked me out." </p><p>Jason swallows at this new information. It feels like the air between them is sugar glass, delicate and paper thin, and he could completely shatter it with the wrong words. Still, he can't help the pulse of belated irritation at Ollie. </p><p>"Roy - " he starts, but Roy steamrolls over him. </p><p>"He got better." His nose digs into that spot just above the collarbone and Jason politely ignores where the fabric dampens slightly. "And he's supported me ever since, but it's - it was <em>hard</em>." </p><p>"How long?" Jason whispers. "Until he - " </p><p>"Months." Roy inhales in a shudder. "It was <em>months</em> before he listened to Dinah and Hal." </p><p>Jason swallows down the <em>Jesus Christ</em> he wants to utter and just holds Roy tighter. </p><p>"You still don't have to tell me - " </p><p>"I know I don't," Roy says, and he sounds like he believes it. He pulls back from Jason's shoulder to look him in the eye, and Jason's heart wrings in his chest at the damp in the corners of his eyes, at the clump of his eyelashes. </p><p>"But I want to tell you, Jason," he finishes, and rubs the heel of his hand against his left eye. </p><p>Instead of any smart or sane reply, Jason curls his fingers around Roy's neck and leans in to press their foreheads together, bumps their noses, pauses before their lips touch. Roy huffs again. </p><p>"Jason, I'm not exactly looking my best," he says, deflective, nonchalant, but his hands grasp onto Jason equally, tellingly tight. Jason looks him in the eyes and has no idea how to express the thunderstorm, fluttery feeling between his lungs, something caught between longing and another L-word he won't allow himself to think yet, not this <em>early</em>. </p><p>Not think, not say, but Roy looks like he needs some right now, and the best Jason can do is <em>show</em> him. </p><p>"I'm closing my eyes anyway," he jokes - quiet, murmured. It pulls a more genuine smile out of Roy. "Promise I won't peek." </p><p>"Okay," Roy whispers, then, stronger, "okay, if you promise." </p><p>"I do," Jason says, and lets Roy close the gap. He doesn't peek, not even when Roy's shoulders hitch, not even when his fingers wrinkle Jason's shirt, not even when Roy murmurs something dangerously close to the thunderstorm in Jason's ribcage. </p><p>Not even when Jason mumbles it back. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Summer days in Gotham always start out the same, with a brisk ocean breeze that chills the early morning city until the sunshine mellows it out. Then the heat weighs heavy through the afternoon, thick with humidity, and the tidal breeze banishes it once more, an ebb and flow that repeats the next day. </p><p>Jason doesn't usually see that part of the afternoon, with his sleep schedule. Right now, it's still chilly, although the cold doesn't touch him through the layers and the adrenaline. On the street below, a suspicious black SUV sits by an abandoned storefront. It's been long enough into this meeting that Jason's almost tempted to bust in through the boarded up windows and get answers for himself. But that will only make the pushers hide again, and he's spent this long carefully trailing them, waiting for them to get bold and make a mistake, that he doesn't want to risk it on an uninformed interrogation. </p><p>He switches on the thermal imaging in his helmet and looks at the storefront again. It's the same story as when he last checked five minutes ago - four bodies sitting down, presumably the pushers, and two more closer to the entrance, their arms held up in a telltale position. Armed guards. If Jason had to guess, he'd say some sort of submachine gun, and probably pistols for backup. Hands move on the invisible table, but Jason can't make out what they're moving. Most likely packets of cocaine and money, maybe information. He followed a dealer here, and he's planning to follow the supplier out, although he is hoping the guards split up after the meeting. </p><p>Something squeals a few blocks over, at the end of the quiet street Jason's watching. He ignores the sound at first, but then an engine backfires, and the distinctive squeak of tyres against asphalt peals through the neighbourhood. Soon after, a siren wails - then a second siren, both getting closer, and Jason turns off his imaging and snaps his head up just in time to watch a black SUV wobble around the corner of the street at high speed, nearly toppling over, with two cop cars hot on its heels. </p><p>Jason mutters a wholehearted <em>fuck</em> and crouches behind his chimney stack. The <em>last</em> thing he needs is cops busting this up - </p><p>The SUV plows through a couple empty benches on the pavement, veering closer to the storefront, and a policeman leans out of his window to shoot at the tyres. He misses, but the shots ricochet, and Jason ducks instinctively, swearing loudly inside the helmet. Fucking <em>cops</em>. </p><p>Suddenly, new movement draws his eye, on the rooftop beside the cop cars. It's red, and black, and runs full tilt to try and get ahead of the SUV, an arrow notched and primed to shoot. </p><p>Jason sighs. Weighs up the chances of a quiet escape vs. a likely blowjob if he saves Roy's ass. </p><p>He doubts Roy needs it, at first. He's keeping up competently, and the arrow punctures the front left tyre with ease - and that's where it all goes to shit. The SUV swerves and buckles and smashes straight into Jason's storefront. And then, to his horror, the driver aims a muzzle out of the window and starts shooting up at Roy with wild abandon. Roy stumbles and stows the bow to dodge more easily, but there's a spray of bullets ripping up the rooftop underneath him, and he won't be able to stay on there much longer - </p><p>Jason emerges from the chimney stack and whips out a pistol to shoot back at the driver, distracting him from Roy. The bullets turn onto him, next, and he hears shouting explode from the storefront - and then from the cops, when they spot him. </p><p>"Red Hood, twelve o'clock!" One of them shouts, and they split between taking aim at the SUV and at Jason - and at <em>Roy</em>, a moment later, directing orders to take him down. </p><p>Jason swears, reloads, and starts sprinting across the connecting rooftops towards Roy, who's fast running out of viable paths. The roof is riddled with bullets, hollow points thudding under Jason's feet and ricocheting off of his armoured shins - <em>fuck</em> he's gonna be bruised later, but he grits his teeth and pushes through the pain to shoot back aimlessly, forcing them to pause shooting for a moment. A chunk of tile erupts under Roy's foot and he shouts in alarm, but the stumble makes him windmill backwards, over the slope of the roof - </p><p>Time slows down for two terrifying, heart-stopping seconds as Roy loses his footing, hands automatically coming up to protect his neck and face - </p><p>Jason ignores the next burst of shooting and grabs Roy just before jumping off the roof on the other side, putting building between them and the cops - Roy makes a surprised little yelp and accidentally kicks Jason in the thigh. </p><p>"Hold on," Jason says, and shoots the grapple gun to catch them on the concrete roof of a garage. Roy tightens a strong arm around him as Jason swings them up to the adjacent roof, landing with twin <em>oofs</em>. It's a messy landing. Jason's toes hit the asphalt first, and then he stumbles and falls over, dragging them both to the ground. Roy's back hits the roof with a crunch of gravel, and Jason doesn't manage to catch himself before landing on Roy's chest and winding him. </p><p>"Thanks," Roy wheezes. </p><p>"Ow," Jason complains. His shins feel like they're on fire. Even the slightest nudge against a bruise makes his eyes sting. </p><p>"Gotta say, usually I'm not complaining about you on top of me," Roy says, sucks in a breath with effort, "but you're fucking heavy, dude." </p><p>"You're a real charmer." Jason rolls off of him anyway, and lays on his back for a second as the weight of his armour and ammo presses down on <em>him</em> instead. </p><p>"Hey, normally I don't gotta worry about Kevlar weight - and what the fuck are you <em>wearing</em> that's so heavy?" </p><p>Jason raps the symbol on his chest. </p><p>"Taser," he says. "The suit's electrified." </p><p>"Okay, that's a little awesome." </p><p>"I better be getting a blowjob later. You completely fucked up my stakeout." </p><p>"I'll do you one better. Blowjob <em>and</em> all the information I have on the pusher I was following." </p><p>Jason holds out a hand to shake. "Deal." </p><p>"Deal." A brisk handshake, and then Roy lets go. </p><p>Yelling interrupts them. </p><p>"Up there! On the roof!" The thud of boots and a spray of bullets follow, tearing up the ledge of the roof. Jason and Roy scramble to stand up, and Roy unhooks a small round something from his belt. Before Jason can move, Roy's got an arm secured around him and an expectant look on his face. </p><p>"You got that grapple ready?" He asks. Jason lifts the gun and makes a puzzled noise. </p><p>"You'll see," Roy says with a grin, and Jason aims at the building across the next street, ready to fire. </p><p>Roy doesn't do a countdown. He pulls the pin on the round thing - a <em>grenade</em>, Jason realises belatedly - and tosses it forcefully down to the street. One second, two, and then a <em>bang</em> and a cloud of thick grey smoke. Inside, the cops shout and yell, disoriented, and Jason fires the grapple to swing them out of there before the smoke clears. </p><p>-- </p><p>"Surprised you haven't benched me after fuckin' up your stakeout." </p><p>Jason rolls his eyes and climbs into bed beside a comfortable-looking Roy, laying on his front and sunk halfway into a pillow. </p><p>"You're not getting rid of me that easily," he says. </p><p>"You could at least kick me out of the bed," Roy adds, giggling when Jason shoves his thigh with his foot. "The big bad Hood's getting soft." </p><p>"Keep it to yourself or you'll ruin my reputation." Jason tugs the blankets up over himself and settles in on his back, inching closer to Roy on the pillow. </p><p>"Just for me, huh?" Roy raises a teasing eyebrow. "Am I special or something?" </p><p>Jason pauses before he answers, sweeping his gaze down the angles of Roy's face - softened, now, in the comfort of Jason's room, tinged silver by the moonlight that escapes through a slit in the curtains. He looks impossibly open, impossibly honest, sincerity lurking underneath his amused little smile. </p><p>It's odd to have Roy in his bed with no intentions, with no preamble - the grateful blowjob postponed because Roy isn't in the mood tonight - and it touches something soft and untethered in Jason's chest, something hopelessly, helplessly <em>fond</em>. </p><p>"Yeah," he says plainly. Roy's eyes widen the slightest amount, nearly imperceptible if Jason wasn't watching him so intently. A flicker of something passes over Roy's face, then disappears as fast as it had arrived. </p><p>"You don't have to sweet-talk me just for information," Roy replies, his tone light and joking. His hand appears from under the covers to curl around Jason's wrist, his fingertips pressing into his pulse. Jason lets his head slip forward a couple inches, into the warm space between them, where Roy's words still hover. </p><p>"It's not sweet-talking if it's true," he murmurs, and glances down at Roy's mouth. Roy gasps quietly, just a slight rushed inhale. </p><p>"Jason - " he tries, but falls short of whatever he wants to say. Moves in and kisses him instead of trying again, as soft and delicate as the feathers on his fletchings. Jason simply plucks Roy's hand from his wrist to hold it in his own instead, squeezing gently, careful of Roy's bruised knuckles. </p><p>He feels a scary kind of brave, tucked under the hush of night in the safety of his bedroom with Roy. A bravery that feels starkly different from the bravery he feels in the field, where dodging bullets and being confident enough to attack is all that keeps him alive. This bravery, here in the quiet, this feels like a muted thrill in his bones, a dangerous sort of invincibility that would cost him more lives than just own in the field but suits him just fine here. Here, it feels like he could do <em>anything</em>. </p><p>Jason takes advantage of that new boldness between one soft kiss and the next, half just to relish the feeling and half because there's something he's been wanting to try, something he's not sure he could do, not sure he ever could, but wants to see if he <em>can</em>. And it's not about Roy, and it's not about anyone else but Jason himself, but - but he doesn't trust anyone else near enough to try it with them. </p><p>Without speaking, he tugs Roy's hand over to the hem of his sleep shirt. Roy stiffens beside him, but doesn't say anything until Jason starts sliding his hand <em>underneath</em> the shirt, drawing Roy's fingers slowly past his abdomen. </p><p>"Jason, you don't have to - " Roy starts, but Jason cuts him off with a shake of his head, exhaling slowly through his parted lips. </p><p>"I want to," he mumbles. "It's not - I want to try." </p><p>Roy's fingers twitch where they've stopped over his ribs. It feels odd to have another person's touch anywhere around his chest - no one's touched him there, not bare skin, since the nurses after top surgery. No one except himself, and that's just the way he likes it, but he's always been curious to see if his aversion ever wore off, after all. </p><p>"I don't care," Roy says, something ferocious and iron-willed hidden in his voice. "I don't care if there's - if there's stuff you never want me to do. To see." He sucks in a shaky breath, and Jason can feel every tremble of it against his lips. "I - care about you anyway." </p><p>"It's not about that," Jason says, but the anvil in his ribcage dissolves with Roy's assurances. He doesn't know how Roy does it, how he knows the right thing to say, how he seems to know exactly what's a big deal for Jason and what isn't it. That this <em>is</em>. </p><p>"If you say so," Roy murmurs, then relaxes his hand in Jason's grip, allowing him to take control. </p><p>"Promise," Jason replies, then kisses him as he urges his hand upwards. </p><p>It's still a weird disconnect in his head, sometimes, with what he looks like now and what he looked like then. He knows, logically, he's filled out in the <em>right</em> places now and flattened in others, that he passes easily even in just his underwear, but there's still a thrum of long-buried doubt in the back of his mind, something he forgets about until it rears its head and he's thrust back into memories he doesn't want of a body he doesn't like, of concave in the ribs and unbearably softer in the hips and - </p><p>It's soothing, abruptly, when Roy's hand slides over pecs instead. Grounds him from his nervous, runaway thoughts, worried about something he never consciously worries about anymore, something long dispelled by hormones and surgery and newfound confidence. He lets his hand slip from Roy's, letting him explore as much as he wants, and breathes in nice and slow, trying to cast away the shake in his lungs. </p><p>Roy kisses his cheek and settles his hand flat over Jason's heart. He's suddenly, sharply aware of its picked-up pace, noticeably more than it should be at resting rate, and yet, the completely normal rate for when he's around Roy. He wonders if Roy can tell the difference, or if he just chalks it up to nerves. </p><p>"You okay?" Roy asks, sweeping his thumb over Jason's skin. </p><p>"I - yeah, actually." Jason lifts a hand to pet Roy's hair, clumsy with the angle as he leans in to kiss him again. He doesn't feel that tug of revulsion he used to, the gut instinct to run away, to shove the touch away, to put the distance between them. </p><p>Instead, he feels almost...comfortable. Still on-edge, slightly, still tenser than he should be just laying in bed, but Roy's touch doesn't make his stomach tighten and tremble. </p><p>Roy slides his palm down over Jason's pec, makes a playful noise into his mouth when he pauses to circle his nipple - Jason snickers quietly. The kissing stays slow, steady, and chastely close-mouthed while Roy touches him, just feeling out all the new skin Jason's offering him. His fingers trail upwards to the middle, then start a pattern outwards, down, back in towards his sternum and over to the other side. Jason doesn't realise what he's doing for a long moment, then laughs out loud when he feels Roy start to trace the bat logo a second time. Roy's smile breaks their kiss. </p><p>"Real creative," he drawls. Roy chuckles. </p><p>"I'm surprised it's not burnt in by the taser." Their noses knock together when Jason laughs again, louder. He reaches up to thumb Roy's chin, endlessly charmed by the way Roy automatically tilts his head into the touch. </p><p>"Show me what you like," he says. "When I do this to you." </p><p>"What I like?" Roy hums thoughtfully. His fingers stop drawing, and instead he presses his palm flat to Jason's sternum, pushing him lightly into the bed. </p><p>"I like when you do that," he continues, his lips brushing Jason's with every word. Sweeps his palm across Jason's pecs, down to his ribs, fingers curving around them to brush downwards. "And that." </p><p>Jason's skin tingles pleasantly everywhere Roy touches him, a giddy thrum in his bones, excited at all the new <em>touch</em>. </p><p>"What else?" He murmurs, smiling easily at Roy's gentle laugh. Roy pauses, and brings his hand back to rest in the middle of Jason's chest. He lifts his head to speak, eyeing Jason carefully. </p><p>"I like the kissing," he says, and taps his chest once, to indicate a path Jason has traced many times on Roy with his mouth. "But I'm gonna go ahead and <em>not</em> jump to that." </p><p>"You're smarter than you look." </p><p>"Keep it to yourself or you'll ruin my reputation," Roy parrots, smoothing his palm over Jason's heart. Then he withdraws his hand entirely, pulling the hem of Jason's shirt back down before cupping his jaw to kiss him again, more tenderly than Jason expects. </p><p>He doesn't know quite what to say when Roy pulls away, doesn't know how to voice all the tightwire, fluttery feelings fizzing in his chest. They make his tongue heavy and his lungs ache, too many held breaths in a space far too small for them. </p><p>Roy hovers over him, something soft and unguarded in the tilt of his eyebrows. Jason reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, enchanted all over again by the silvery touch of moonlight that casts over Roy's cheekbone, dances across his eyes like stars in a rippling pond. </p><p>This time, Roy sighs contentedly into the kiss, his nose pushing into that soft spot between bridge and cheek, and he feels like everything Jason ever wanted, tucked up right here in his bed with the covers draped over the both of them, like a secret he desperately wants to keep to himself. </p><p>There's treacherous words on his tongue, in his throat, threatening to spill out between presses of Roy's lips. Treacherous and <em>true</em>, and so so easy to let slip. </p><p>He doesn't let it yet, but only because he's too busy pressing the sentiment into Roy with his fingers, his mouth, in the way he lowers him to the bed and the way he curls up with him. The sheets are a comfortable embrace around their bubble of warmth, draping over Jason's shoulders, tickling his nose when he shuffles closer to Roy. He doesn't know how Roy manages to breathe with his face tucked into the pillow as firmly as it is. </p><p>"Roy?" Jason murmurs, buried into Roy's temple, something hesitant and bold perched on his tongue, something <em>daring</em>. </p><p>All he gets in response is Roy's slow, even breathing. Fast asleep. </p><p>The words fizzle away on his tongue. He allows himself a whispered rehearsal and presses his nose to Roy's shoulder as he settles in to sleep. </p><p>-- </p><p>The office blocks shut down one by one, corporate parties and late night meeting filtering out into obnoxious honking car horns, amplified tenfold by simple virtue of being a Saturday night. The chill of the railing bites into Jason's bare forearms, but he doesn't pay much attention to it. The night air is pleasantly warm, tinged with humidity when it rolls over his balcony, and his fingers don't even itch for a cigarette. He's only got a couple weeks left to go on his nicotine course. His cravings are pretty much burnt down to embers, now, tempered by the patches. The gum he quit using a week ago. </p><p>An arrow <em>thunks</em> into the wall behind him. Jason calmly watches a flash of red and black swings towards him, as subtle as a wrecking ball, and a moment later Roy lands on his balcony, stumbling forward in the small space while his grappling arrow whips up its rope. Jason turns to catch him with a laugh, steadying Roy with a grip on his arms. </p><p>"Hey, thanks, tall, dark, and handsome," Roy says, grinning wide enough to show his teeth. "Say, you haven't seen a guy in a helmet around, have you? 'Bout this tall, permanently grumpy, got a jaw you could cut yourself on?" </p><p>Jason rolls his eyes far enough to get a glimpse of his brain. Roy <em>laughs</em> again, bubbly and upbeat, and it takes all the restraint Jason <em>has</em> to not kiss him stupid. </p><p>His restraint snaps a second later, when Roy sways closer. His breath is warm and minty in Jason's mouth, a permanent smile etched into the corners of his lips, and his fingertips are cold when he curls them around Jason's biceps, edging up under his sleeves. The brim of the hat nudges Jason's forehead, and he only spares enough brainpower to knock it to the floor before burying his fingers in Roy's hair, just against his scalp, a warm and familiar curve. Roy's fingers slip higher, seeking out warmth, and then his left thumb brushes against the patch. </p><p>Roy makes a confused noise in the back of his throat and pulls away just enough to speak. </p><p>"What's this?" His thumb darts around the edge of it, curious and cautious all at once. </p><p>"Nicotine patch," Jason murmurs, chest tight with held breath. Doesn't know how Roy missed that before, chalks it up to Roy rarely seeing him shirtless, rarely going anywhere beyond a hem. </p><p>"<em>Oh</em>." Roy nods and kisses him again, sweet. His smile breaks it. His thumb rests along an unpatched area of skin. "Okay. Thought you were bandaged up." </p><p>"And get injured without you? I'd never." </p><p>"That's the spirit." Roy pauses to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Speaking of getting injured, I got information for you." </p><p>"You always know just what to say," Jason sighs dramatically. Roy snickers. </p><p>"I'm gonna need some help with it, though," he says. </p><p>Jason breaks them apart to wave him in, shutting the night out behind sturdy glass doors. With the curtains pulled tight, he flips up his laptop and points Roy towards the conspiracy board. He hasn't added much since Roy last came over with information, but there's a few new verifying markers against suspected, and now confirmed, names. </p><p>"There's leads I need to trace here," Roy says, setting down a page of scribbled notes. "I've got footage from my goggles as well." </p><p>"We can do that," Jason agrees, typing in his laptop password one-handed as he glances over Roy's notes. Warehouse names and supplier trucks, all with question marks at their ends. Where Jason's tackling the distribution part of the network, trailing pushers and dealers, Roy's diving into the supply side, hanging out around dockyards and truck stops to try and find who exactly's bringing the stuff in. </p><p>"That's the strongest lead," Roy says, tapping an underlined name. "Extra surveillance on their trucks, driver definitely packing heat." </p><p>Jason nods and brings up his modified Batcomputer software - he's got a desktop in the office that runs a more powerful version, but the laptop will do for just this catching up. He tugs a drawer open to grab a pen and circle the important leads Roy points out, with a couple scribbled notes of Roy's commentary. The debrief is quick, an easy back and forth between them like it always is, connecting the dots faster than they can talk. Jason inputs the new list - leads from strongest to weakest - into the laptop to let the software digest it and draw its own conclusions. </p><p>"That's not all I have," Roy says, a pleased grin on his face. He pulls a couple clear Ziploc bags out of his quiver, with swatches of tissue inside them. He flicks the first bag. "Blood and hair samples from the driver." </p><p>"<em>Blood</em>?" A bubble of laughter lodges in Jason's throat. "What did you <em>do</em> to him?" </p><p>"Nothing bad." Roy grins unconvincingly. "He thought I was looking at him a little funny." </p><p>"Were you?" </p><p>Roy shrugs. "Maybe." He sets the second bag down on the table. "And a sample of...<em>something</em> that I got from the cab." </p><p>"Something?" Jason squints at the tissue, but he can't tell what's supposed to be swabbed on it. </p><p>"Something powdery," Roy says. "And I don't think that driver is exactly worrying about his complexion." </p><p>"Huh." Jason grins. "That's pretty awesome, Roy." </p><p>"Thanks." Roy ruffles a hand through his hair and smiles. "I can get it analysed at the Tower if you want, since we can't send it up north again." Because it would counts as official evidence now, if the second bag really is drugs, and Jason knows both he and Roy want to keep this revelation private for just a little longer, just to find the rest of the network. No point having the cops intervene yet if it'll only lead to the network burying itself again. </p><p>But the Tower is all the way in Manhattan. Not far, but still time-consuming. Jason doesn't want to waste time if he can help it. </p><p>"We can analyse it," he sighs. Roy quirks an eyebrow. </p><p>"Really?" </p><p>"Yeah." Jason drops the pen and rummages in the drawer for something. </p><p>"Awesome - " </p><p>"Unfortunately," Jason interrupts, holding up a loaded keyring from the drawers, "all that tech's in the Cave." </p><p>-- </p><p>Thankfully, the manor is empty when they arrive. Jason lets himself in through the front door and pauses for a second in the grand, empty lobby. He cocks his head to listen out for any telltale signs of life, but none leap out at him. </p><p>"I always forget how stupidly big this place is," Roy says, craning his head back to gaze up at the huge, ostentatious chandelier hanging delicately above the marble floor. </p><p>"Yeah, me too," Jason grunts, and slips a hand into Roy's. "C'mon, this way." </p><p>He leads Roy around the staircase towards the parlour rooms at the back of the manor, set within cosy hallways with plush carpeting and old-fashioned wallpaper that Bruce never changes. When they pass the kitchen, Jason spots Alfred making something, but they simply share a nod and a smile. Alfred never forces conversation, not like Bruce does, and Jason appreciates it more than he probably shows. Then they're off again, down a hallway with family pictures on the wall, towards a plain mahogany door. </p><p>All of a sudden, Roy tugs on his hand to halt them. Jason puffs out a quiet laugh and backpedals to Roy's side, turning to see what's caught Roy's eye. </p><p>It's a framed picture of Jason when he was younger. Fourteen, he thinks, judging by the haircut. Grinning toothily at the camera - held by Bruce, he remembers - with a bat over one shoulder. Looking like he does now, he doesn't mind old photos of himself anymore; they feel welcomely detached from who he is now, easier to deal with. And he's always quietly appreciated that Bruce keeps photos of him right along with the rest of them, decorating the otherwise stiff halls of the manor. </p><p>"I didn't know you were in Little League," Roy says turning a delighted look to him. Jason tries not to wince when he offers a half-hearted smile and looks at the wallpaper. </p><p>"It was middle school," he replies vaguely. Roy scoffs. </p><p>"Still, you never told me - " </p><p>"I wasn't on the <em>boy's</em> team," Jason says. And it was softball, for bullshit reasons he refuses to understand. </p><p>"Ah," Roy says, and then says something Jason hadn't ever expected him to say. "I forgot." </p><p>Jason doesn't really know how Roy can <em>forget</em> when he takes his clothes off with him near nightly, but he just huffs a laugh in the back of his throat and glances at the picture again. </p><p>"Forgot?" He deadpans, stretching it into a joke. </p><p>"Not that - " Roy flutters a hand in the air and scoffs again, "I forgot your childhood would be different." </p><p>Jason grins. "I'm just giving you a hard time." </p><p>Roy slaps his chest. "I know, asshole." </p><p>Still, when Jason tugs on his hand, Roy goes easily, following him into the parlour room. Jason presses his palm to the hidden print reader layered underneath the wall, and a moment later, the hidden panel of the bookcase swings open. </p><p>"<em>Wow</em>," Roy breathes. </p><p>"You ever taken this way before?" Jason asks. </p><p>"No," Roy answers, stepping onto the platform with him. "This is like something out of fuckin' <em>Clue</em>." </p><p>Jason laughs. "Don't worry, this is the only secret passage." </p><p>"That you know of." </p><p>"That I know of." </p><p>The platform descends so smoothly it barely feels like they're moving. The Cave is as impassive as ever, an expanse of matte black and tasteful strip lights that don't even blink as Jason and Roy walk past them. To Jason's disappointment, the Batcomputer is occupied. </p><p>"Welcome back," Tim says, looking up from the computer to them. Jason drops Roy's hand, but not quick enough. Tim arches a <em>c'mon</em> eyebrow at him but doesn't comment. </p><p>"Shut up, I'm not here," Jason replies, swinging the backpack off his shoulder to pull out Roy's samples. "You better erase me from the cameras." </p><p>"They were shut off the moment I saw your bike." Tim smirks, and Jason could damn hug the kid. Does, a moment later, one arm around Tim's head and the other knuckling his hair while Tim tries uselessly to bat him away. </p><p>"You're so fucking heavy," Tim grumbles when Jason releases him, smoothing his hair back into place. </p><p>"Weak tactics for someone who regularly spars with Superboy," Jason teases. </p><p>Tim calmly flips him off. "Hi, Roy." </p><p>Roy lifts his hand in a half-wave. "Hey, Tim. How's things?" </p><p>"Same as always." Tim pushes back from the desk to spin and face them. "Steph's trying to copyright her codename, Damian's helping her, and Cass is the only person I trust anymore." He cracks a grin and crosses his arms. "What d'ya need?" </p><p>"I just need the analysis machines for a second," Jason says, holding up the bags. "Got DNA and potential drugs." </p><p>"Likely drugs," Roy corrects. Jason shrugs. </p><p>"Likely drugs," he parrots. </p><p>Tim sweeps an arm to the machines to his left. "Help yourself." </p><p>Jason nudges Roy over to the machines and sets to work carefully unloading the samples onto sterile slides. He can feel Tim's gaze burning holes into the back of his head, regarding them with a cautious, curious air. </p><p>"Tim, you stare at me any harder and I'm gonna spontaneously combust," Jason says without turning around, depositing a couple hairs onto a slide with thin tweezers. Roy lifts the top of the machine when instructed, and gently closes it after Jason inserts the slide. </p><p>"I just haven't seen you in a while, that's all," Tim says. "You've been busy." </p><p>"Uh-huh." Jason flicks the dial and starts the machine. </p><p>"You know you have wanted posters in southeast, right?" Tim continues. "<em>Both</em> of you?" </p><p>"I'm aware," Jason grunts. Roy dumps the bloody tissue onto the slide he holds out, an amused grin cutting into his cheek. </p><p>"Hazard of working with the bats," Roy says to Tim. His shoulders roll in an easy shrug. "Not my first rodeo with the authorities." </p><p>"We can clear your name after we're done," Jason says. He focuses on clipping the tissue down to just the bloody patch and laying it in the centre of the slide instead of the clench in his chest at remembering there's an <em>end</em> to all of this. The machine whirs and beeps unsympathetically. "The League can testify for the Titans." </p><p>"Testify?" </p><p>"Yeah. Did it for Kori when she worked with me," Jason explains. "And Dick." </p><p>"And they haven't cleared your name yet?" Roy jokes, lifting an eyebrow. Jason laughs. </p><p>"Jason can't keep his name clear for more than a day," Tim supplies. "We've given up on it." </p><p>The machine beeps twice and unlocks with a click, throwing a result on the screen that Jason sends to another monitor for safekeeping before swapping out the slides. Roy and Tim scrutinise the DNA profile on the bigger screen, but neither comment. The machine whirs peacefully while Jason disposes of the samples in the biohazard bin. Roy idly drifts over to take his place by the table when Jason ventures to wash his hands in the big stainless steel sink - surgical grade, probably, knowing Bruce - at the other end of the machine. </p><p>"So working with Jason doesn't implicate the rest of you?" Roy asks, seemingly out of the blue. Jason shakes his head and dries his hands on the towel hanging by the sink. </p><p>"We don't work publicly enough with him for them to bother," Tim says. "I think Batman's reputation tends to outweigh Jason's." </p><p>"And the GCPD love you up here," Jason adds, coming back to stand beside Roy, hands in his pockets. "Southeast are a bunch of assholes." </p><p>"Well, they do actually <em>work</em> with the police," Roy comments, raising an eyebrow. "Jase, last time I saw you near a police officer, you were arrested." </p><p>"Look, I leave them what they need, I don't need face-to-face meetings to do that." </p><p>"And you don't need to liaise with police about substance abuse," Tim agrees, to Roy's apparent surprise. "It's stupid." </p><p>Roy turns to Jason, who shifts uncomfortably under the attention. </p><p>"I thought you were the black sheep," Roy jokes, partially asks, a curious slant to his mouth and eyes. "Doing things against Batman's book and all that." </p><p>"Batman's book says to direct people to the authorities and let <em>them</em> organise getting help," Jason replies. He can't quite keep the snarl out of his voice. He scrubs it by clearing his throat, opening himself up with a sigh. </p><p>"Bruce has the right intentions," he says, carefully enunciating each word. "But he doesn't have the experience." Jason might have suffered through death and resurrection, but no amount of Lazarus Pit can wash off his upbringing in the alleyways in southeast Gotham in the shadow of the Batsignal. </p><p>"Trust me, Jason's the best person to have there," Tim adds. Roy makes an approving murmur in the back of his throat. </p><p>"You can just check Tim's spreadsheets if you doubt it." Jason grins to try and lighten the suddenly heavy mood, chuckling quietly at the dark look Tim shoots his way. </p><p>"And you'll thank me when Bruce has to eat his words," Tim retorts, jabbing a finger in Jason's direction. "I put <em>graphs</em> in here for you, Jay, don't make me delete them." </p><p>"No, no, hey, I appreciate it," Jason says, holding his hands up in surrender. The spreadsheets were a venture proposed by Tim, back when Jason first loudly split from Bruce and promptly annexed southeast Gotham, as a way to categorically show Jason's progress and effect. Something about sneaking past Bruce's emotions - <em>both</em> of their emotions, if Jason's honest, because he always held some complicated form of affection for Bruce even if he never showed it - and putting actions into data. </p><p>It had worked, actually, surprisingly, the first year that Tim presented the numbers and analysis to Bruce. Less recorded hospital overdoses, more support centre attendance, higher applications for aid, lower suicide rates. It had also struck something in Jason, scowling and guarded in the Cave beside the rest of the family, tangible proof that <em>he</em> had done that. </p><p>"Spreadsheets?" Roy asks, and Tim grins wickedly, looking straight at Jason. </p><p>"Yeah, let me show you," he says, and Jason sighs. </p><p>"C'mon, we don't need to - Tim, it's not - " he tries, but Tim's already opening Excel and beckoning Roy over. </p><p>"I hate this family," Jason mutters, and waits for the machine to finish. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Incest shippers do not interact.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What's something you want to try?" </p><p>As Jason walks out of the bathroom, Roy looks puzzled at the question, although that could be an aftereffect of the orgasm that ruined Jason's sheets five minutes ago. He props himself up on his elbows to look at Jason. </p><p>"Like what?" He asks. Jason runs a hand through his hair. </p><p>"In bed," he answers. "Are there - I dunno, is there anything you want me to do for you?" Jason tries not to trip over the words, but he does stumble when climbing back onto the bed. Roy hums and glances upwards. </p><p>"Well, I wasn't joking about that collar," he says. Jason's hand misses the pillow and lands flat on the mattress instead. He hadn't even thought of anything leaning towards BDSM, and he hasn't ever <em>done</em> any of that - </p><p>"I, uh, I haven't - I don't really know how to do that sort of - I've never tried - " Jason stammers out, stuck kneeling beside Roy. </p><p>"It's okay, I don't want the D, S, or M." Roy grins, his gaze falling back to Jason's. "Just the bondage." </p><p>Jason automatically looks at Roy's throat and pictures a collar on it. It would look good, purely aesthetically. Otherwise it doesn't particularly rev Jason's engine, to borrow one of Roy's awful analogies, but if it gets Roy hot, he's <em>definitely</em> up for it. </p><p>"Do you - have one?" Jason asks. Roy's cheeks colour.</p><p>"No, uh - " he coughs and averts his eyes. "I like my...partners to choose them." </p><p><em>Oh</em>. </p><p>"And the leash," Roy adds. Jason blinks. </p><p>"I don't mind if you don't want to," Roy says, but Jason dismisses it with a wave of his hand, rolling over to collapse on his back. </p><p>"I want to," he assures him. "I just...wasn't expecting that." He grins. "It's hot." </p><p>Roy snorts as Jason settles in beside him, basking in the gentle warmth pressed up against his side. Sure, the cooling sweat on Roy's skin is going to stick them together, but Jason can't bring himself to care about that just yet. </p><p>"Anything else?" He asks. Roy hums thoughtfully. </p><p>"I wanna try deepthroating," he says, to Jason's surprise. He tears his eyes from the ceiling to give Roy a strange look. </p><p>"How the hell haven't you done <em>that</em>?" He asks. It seems to be in Roy's wheelhouse - he likes giving Jason blowjobs, anyway, and he vocally doesn't mind if Jason bumps in a little too deep occasionally. </p><p>Roy gives a tiny shrug. "I don't like the taste of come in my throat," he says, colouring in the cheeks. </p><p>Jason blinks. "You licked my come off your fingers, Roy." </p><p>"Yeah, I don't mind if it goes over my <em>tongue</em>," he says, and is he <em>embarrassed</em>? He doesn't meet Jason's eyes, staring steadfastly at the ceiling instead. "Just, y'know, I don't like when it's just...straight in my throat." He gestures lamely to the ceiling. "But I want to see if I can do it." He glances over at Jason now, a touch sheepishly. "You, uh - I mean, you're perfect for it, y'know - " </p><p>Jason breaks into a laugh, and Roy relaxes next to him with a similar sound. </p><p>"Yeah, okay," Jason says, brushing his knuckles up Roy's forearm. "We can try that." He's never been too fussed on his blowjobs, but it'll either turn out hilarious or hot, and Jason's okay with both of those options, with Roy. </p><p>"What about you?" Roy asks, rolling his head to look at Jason. Now it's Jason's turn to stare at the ceiling. </p><p>There is one thing he's been curious about, on Roy. He hasn't ever really thought about it outside of the heat of the moment, but if Roy's <em>asking</em>... </p><p>"I wanna make you come untouched," he says. Roy's breath hitches. </p><p>"Holy shit, Jason." </p><p>"Or mostly untouched, whatever." Jason swallows back his nervousness and waves a hand in the air. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roy lick his lips. </p><p>"How?" Roy asks, and his voice has dropped into that quieter, more intimate timbre he uses when he's curious about one of Jason's bedroom ideas. Not that he has many. </p><p>Jason glances at him and lifts a hand to curl two fingers in a suggestive gesture, cheeks burning. Roy watches him with a gaze that feels like a cattle brand, dragging his eyes down Jason's body and back up in a once-over Jason can only describe as <em>sizzling</em>. </p><p>"I'll keep that in mind," he promises. </p><p>-- </p><p>Jason's comfortable where he is, sprawled on the bed with his back to the wall and his legs spread carelessly onto the sheets. He's got one hand buried in Roy's hair, idly stroking circles behind his ear, and the other is tucked behind his own head to rest against while Roy bobs on his dick. Jason's in no hurry - when they had set up for Roy to experiment, they'd gotten a little carried away, and now Roy's fingers are slick with a combination of his own spit and Jason's come. His underwear is probably uncomfortably sticky by now, too, where he'd ground a hand against himself until he came with the toy poking out his cheek, which was definitely top ten on hottest things Jason's ever seen. </p><p>And now Jason's just basking in the pleasant afterglow while Roy bobs down to the circle of his fingers, gradually easing himself lower. He's spent a good five minutes teasing his throat - Jason can't feel it, but he can feel Roy's slight flinch whenever his windpipe seizes, and strokes through his hair. He's tried a few times already, and gagged on every single one. </p><p>Roy pops off and wipes his mouth, breathing heavily. </p><p>"I have <em>no</em> idea how they do it," he pants, looking up at Jason. Jason shrugs. </p><p>"I haven't done it either," he says. Roy strokes the toy with an idle fist, smearing his spit back over the head. The excess pools at the base. </p><p>"Right, I'm just gonna - go for it," Roy decides, staring down at it. "It can't be that hard, right? I've had people do it to me, it's not fucking - rocket science." </p><p>"How's it feel?" Jason asks, dropping the arm behind his head to rest on the bed instead. Roy glances up at him and fists his dick again, jostling the harness against him. </p><p>"Feels good." He swallows, thick enough that Jason can hear it. "It's really - <em>tight</em>. Wet. Kinda like it's wrapped around you - well, I guess it <em>is</em>, but, y'know." </p><p>"I don't, that's why I'm asking," Jason says dryly. Roy slaps his thigh. </p><p>"Shut up, it's hard to describe. It's a lot of squeeze. Like a tongue but just...all <em>over</em>." He grins, rubs his lips over the head. "Had a girl take me all the fuckin' way once. Lost her voice the next day." </p><p>"<em>Wow</em>." </p><p>"That's true dedication." Roy screws up his face and frowns down at Jason's dick. "She made it look so <em>easy</em>, too." </p><p>"Maybe I oughta try it out." Jason smirks, lazy, and Roy's eyes widen a fraction. </p><p>"You can't just <em>say</em> shit like that, Jase." </p><p>"Don't get your hopes up, I've got a hell of a gag reflex." </p><p>Roy laughs, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Speaking of gag reflexes, I need to get rid of mine." He shuffles up for a better angle on his neck and lets out a breath. "I'm just gonna go for it." </p><p>"Ready when you are." Not that it <em>isn't</em> hot watching Roy choke himself, but Jason doesn't want him to actually <em>hurt </em>himself, so he gathers up a handful of Roy's hair and holds gently, ready to pull him off if need be. </p><p>Roy sucks in a breath and presses his lips to the head, closes his eyes before opening his mouth and sinking down to the circle of his fingers, halfway down Jason. He swallows a couple times, although spit still leaks out the corner of his mouth, and adjusts his position to open up his throat more. Jason's breath hitches as Roy slides his hand all the way to the base, his head slowly following. He sinks low, and then <em>lower</em>, and Jason feels the echo of resistance. Hears Roy gag, then jerk, and Roy pulls off coughing. </p><p>"Okay, fuck that," he wheezes, coughing out a wet laugh. Jason relaxes the hand in his hair and shakes with laughter on the bed. </p><p>"Fuck <em>that</em>," Roy repeats, thumps his chest with a fist and <em>coughs</em> again, thick and phlegmy. </p><p>"Not up to bat?" Jason jokes. Roy glares at him. Coughs, and wipes the resulting spit from his chin. </p><p>"No idea how anyone does that," he says, and climbs out of the sprawl of Jason's legs to collapse beside him. He wipes his fingers on Jason's shirt. Jason smoothly rolls over to kiss him for his efforts. </p><p>"Guess it's my turn to experiment now," he says, pressing a grin into Roy's mouth. "With what I wanted to try." </p><p>"God, <em>Jason</em>," Roy groans. "I can't even get hard again yet." </p><p>"We've got time to fix that." Jason grinds against Roy's thigh, pushes his own up between Roy's legs. Roy chuckles and throws an arm around his shoulders. </p><p>"I'm not up for anything backdoors today," Roy says, laughs at Jason's undignified snort. "But I won't complain if you wanna suck my dick." </p><p>"Maybe I'll try a couple things out myself." Jason pulls away just enough to kiss down Roy's neck instead, down his clothed chest. </p><p>"Oh yeah? Like what?" Roy props himself up on his elbows as Jason drifts lower. </p><p>"Cleaning you up, for one." Jason rucks up the shirt and undoes the jeans, easing them over Roy's hips to see the darkened patch of fabric in his briefs. Roy's nowhere near hard again yet, but that's perfectly fine for Jason. "Getting you in my throat, for another." </p><p>Roy's hand fists in his shirt at the shoulder. "You think you can?" </p><p>"Nope." </p><p>Half an hour later, he's proven right about that. </p><p>-- </p><p>Roy whines against the paint, slapping a hand to the wall as he screws his eyes shut and trembles. He's a pretty fucking picture here, forehead against his parallel forearms, hips jerking fitfully forward and meeting nothing except the resistance of Jason's arm around them, keeping him from rubbing up against the wall. It wouldn't be very comfortable, anyway, but Roy's starting to look like he'll take <em>anything</em>, moaning high and shaky every time Jason corkscrews his fingers in. </p><p>It had been funny to start, with Roy just slapping him on the arm and declaring himself ready for Jason's experiment, but Jason's long gone on <em>funny</em>, now, muffling a groan into Roy's shoulder blade as he fingers him, although there's a lot less thrusting and a lot more <em>rubbing</em> going on, working his fingertips in quick up-downs directly over Roy's prostate. Roy sounds like he's two seconds away from crying at the stimulation, but he doesn't ask Jason to stop - pleads, in fact, for him to keep going, his voice ragged and rough. </p><p>"'m so close, I'm - <em>ah</em>, <em>fuck</em>," he pants, moans, shudders at the next roll of his hips. He bucks forward instinctively and Jason holds him back, careful to not let his arm drop enough for Roy to rub against it. <em>God</em> he wants to touch Roy, though, presses his forehead to his shoulder and grunts through his teeth at the arousal that drips through him hotter than tar, thick in his blood and his bones and pinning him to the spot. </p><p>Maybe it was a mistake starting this before he could get himself off, but he's two fingers deep now and there's no way he's pulling out unless Roy asks him to, shivering hot all over every single time Roy whimpers. Roy's hips abruptly jerk up, a shudder ripping through him as his nails scratch at the paint, his cheek pressed up to the wall - </p><p>"Jaso - <em>Jase</em>, ohhh <em>fuck</em>, 'm gonna, 'm - " it twists into a whimper, dials into a tremble, and Jason rubs at fast as he can, encouraging Roy on with breathless nonsense that melts into nonsensical <em>c'mon, yeah, fuck </em>that Roy probably can't even hear. </p><p>Roy <em>whimpers </em>again, tense as a fucking steel cable underneath him, but after a moment, he lets out a frustrated whine. Shudders, crumples suddenly, and shakes his head, panting like he's run a marathon. </p><p>"Fuck, we gotta - my knees are gonna give out, Jase." </p><p>"Jesus <em>Christ</em>," Jason spits, and pauses his fingers. "Yeah, we can - <em>god</em>, Roy." </p><p>It takes a minute, but soon enough, he has Roy laid out before him on the bed, legs spread and cheeks flushed as Jason lubes up his fingers again and presses them to his hole. </p><p>"You okay?" He asks, sweeping a hand down Roy's stomach to stop just above his dick, laying across his hip and leaking at the tip. Has been leaking for a while, by the delicate drop that smacks onto his skin when he shifts. </p><p>"I'm fuckin' fantastic," Roy pants, his brow furrowed in the middle. He rakes a hand through his sweaty hair. "Please, fuck, just - keep <em>going</em>, Jase." </p><p>"That bad, huh?" Jason grins as he slides his fingers in again, crooking up into their familiar spot. "What's it feel like?" </p><p>"I've been on the edge for ten fucking minutes, Jason." Roy whimpers at the next slow rub of Jason's fingers. "It feels like I'm gonna <em>come</em> and I <em>can't</em>." </p><p>"You can tap out whenever," Jason reminds him, eyeing the jump of Roy's cock when he starts up his pace again. </p><p>"I might," Roy admits. He fists the sheets and bucks up against Jason's hand. </p><p>God, he's gorgeous worked up like this, tense and shuddery and <em>whimpering</em>, soft and pleading. Jason smooths a hand up his thigh and curls his fingers up into a more insistent rhythm, pushing and pressing and rubbing until Roy coughs out a broken moan and swears roughly, head tipping back against the pillow. The tip of his cock is desperately wet, drooling a pretty puddle onto his skin. Jason's mouth waters. </p><p>"<em>Close</em>," Roy gasps, bucking up fitfully against Jason's hand, hips working in tight, desperate jerks to try and get himself off. Jason ducks his head to press a smattering of kisses over the inside of Roy's knee, trails a slow, indulgent path down a couple inches down his inner thigh, a twang of heat twisting up his guts at the flex of muscle against his lips. </p><p>Roy gasps and pants and whimpers so raggedly Jason's not entirely convinced he's not crying, every inch of him tense and frustrated and <em>begging</em>. His cock twitches but nothing else happens, despite the fervent pace of Jason's fingers, and Roy <em>whines</em> in the back of his throat. </p><p>"I can't, I <em>can't</em>," he spits, in a sudden rush of breath, his legs slackening once more to fall open, his knuckles white in the sheets, a fine sheen of sweat on the underside of his jaw. "Jason - <em>Jase</em>, please, please, I <em>can't</em>, I need - I need you to - <em>please</em> - " </p><p>Jason <em>scrambles </em>into action. "Yeah, yeah, I got you," he murmurs, swiping his fingers through the mess of pre-come on Roy's stomach before taking him in hand. Roy whimpers <em>loudly</em> at the touch, his breath coming sharper, now, harder, as Jason jacks him off in time with his fingering. </p><p>He collapses down onto an elbow and gives up on his kissing to lick a sordid stripe up Roy's dick, swirls around the head and bobs down messily - Roy <em>sobs</em> and grabs at his hair, pleading breathlessly as he twitches on Jason's tongue. He shudders so violently it feels more like a vibration, thighs slamming to Jason's sides in the tense, trembling moments before - </p><p>"Oh, oh <em>god</em>, <em>Jase</em> - " Roy breaks off with a rough moan when he comes, bucking hard enough that Jason has to slam a forearm over his hips to hold him down, spit leaking out the corners of his mouth as he struggles between swallowing and sucking. The hand in his hair tightens, then loosens as a shudder works through Roy, his shoulders curling off the bed and <em>thumping</em> back down a moment later, his abs tensing and relaxing in time with the short, fitful rolls of his hips. </p><p>Jason stays there as long as it takes for Roy to stop twitching - longer than usual, because of all the accidental edging - steadying Roy's dick with his hand to continue his circuit, a slow, hopefully soothing up-down with more tongue than he usually puts into it. Roy's legs relax against his sides a full minute later, angled to rest his knees against Jason's ribs. His chest is heaving, a sheen of sweat visible in the dips and valleys of his body, the flat of his stomach, the hollow of his throat, the crease of thigh and hip. </p><p>Jason withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his shirt. His damp palm drags against Roy's thigh when he pushes it flat down to the bed, using the new anchor to pull off and crawl up Roy's body. He gets distracted, halted, along the way, with deliberate, indulgent kisses up Roy's middle, chuckling when the hand in his hair switches to stroking it, pushing sweaty strands off his forehead and smoothing down the wayward tufts behind his ear. </p><p>Roy doesn't respond verbally until Jason's brushing his lips up the column of his throat, half-debating on leaving a hickey, and even then it's only a pleased hum, a twist of fingers in his hair to coax him up. Jason sinks easily into the kiss, slotted fully between Roy's thighs and bracketing him with his elbows. </p><p>"Pretty sure I pulled a muscle somewhere in there," Roy murmurs, a lazy grin growing on his face when Jason bursts into laughter, tucking his nose beside Roy's to snort unattractively. </p><p>"We can see what I can do about that," Jason teases. "A boyfriend once told me I give good massages." </p><p>"Yeah, <em>I</em> did, two weeks ago," Roy replies, smooth as anything. "And I'm right." </p><p>"Okay, then." Jason kisses the corner of his mouth and slides a hand down his side. "Show me where it hurts." </p><p>"Oh, not so fast there, cowboy." Roy's arms come up around his middle and Jason doesn't register <em>why</em> until he's on his back, Roy grinning above him. His hair tickles Jason's forehead when he leans down to kiss him, and brushes against his cheeks when his lips make their way down to his jaw. Where Jason was half-debating, Roy's fully decided, scraping up a hickey while Jason tangles a hand in his hair and shivers pleasantly. </p><p>"Thought you were exhausted," Jason protests, although not seriously. Roy's fingers are already working deftly on his jeans, spreading the flaps and shoving them down when Jason raises his hips. </p><p>"Not too tired for payback." Roy kisses down his neck and gestures to the bedside drawer with a hand. "Gimme that vibrator." His other hand is occupied with teasing at the waistband of Jason's underwear. A smirk presses to his skin when Jason's breath hitches. </p><p>"Playing hardball, huh?" He sounds more breathless than he thought he was, even as he leans over to rummage in the drawer with just his hand. His fingers curl around a familiar shape that he passes off to Roy a moment later. </p><p>"After that?" Roy flicks the vibrator on and presses the point to Jason's hip. "You're not coming until you're <em>begging</em>." </p><p>"You think you can get me to beg?" Jason jumps at the buzz, a thrill curling through him at the thought of Roy being a little merciless. It's a pointless question, with no good answer, because they've done this before, and Jason's happily, intimately familiar with Roy's wicked side. Roy chuckles against his pulse, and surely he can feel it jump underneath his lips, surely he can feel it beat double-time when his fingers slide down to press between Jason's legs. </p><p>"I think you won't have a choice," he says, <em>promises</em>, with a wicked little swirl of his fingers over Jason's cock that punches all the air out of him in a quiet gasp. </p><p>Jason gathers up a spill of Roy's hair with his thumb and inches his legs wider to give Roy easier access, something the Roy takes advantage of with a sharp grin and nimble fingers, dragging the dull, buzzing point of the toy down the sensitive line of Jason's hip straight to his dick. </p><p>"Good," Jason pants in belated response, arching up with a groan at the first touch of the toy. </p><p>-- </p><p>Jason tugs the zipper pull at his throat before stepping into Roy's building, useless when he already knows the jacket is zipped up and hiding any incriminating Bat logos or weapon bulges. He's not quite sure what emotion is twisting his gut as he shuffles past the cramped entry hallway to get to the elevator lobby - red carpet, white walls, and a grey metal wall of mailboxes on the far wall - and jam the button for Roy's floor. </p><p>He's never actually <em>been</em> to Roy's before, not even picked him up outside - Roy just always seems to come to him, or they run into each other in odd corners of the city. He knows where Roy lives, obviously, a scrawled address on a coffee stained napkin that Roy traded over after their first night together, complete with a laugh and an open invitation to drop by any time. Which Jason hasn't. Hasn't <em>needed</em> to, if he's honest, because he spends so much time with Roy otherwise that he never feels the need to seek out his company. </p><p>Wow, if nineteen year old Jason could see him now. Dating a <em>Titan</em>. </p><p>The elevator runs smoothly, despite its appearance, and delivers Jason promptly and quietly to floor six. The corridors are the same red and white decor as downstairs, although offset by the dark brown doors and brass door handles set neatly into the wall. There's a couple attempts at decoration in the plants on the windowsill at the end of the hall and in the framed artwork of the city that Jason glances at on his way by. </p><p>Roy's door is as unassuming as the rest of them. Jason takes a moment to steel himself, swallow his pride, and raps the wood with his knuckles in a strict one-two fashion. He raises an eyebrow at the peephole just in case Roy checks, and fifteen seconds later, the door opens on a chain. </p><p>"Hey - fuck." Roy closes the door, fiddles with something, then opens it again, wider with the chain detached. "Hey! What are you doing here?" His expression melts into an easy smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he leans against the doorframe, jaw working on chewing gum. Without his permission, Jason's gaze darts from his sunny grin to the room behind him, automatically cataloguing before he flicks his eyes back to Roy's. </p><p>He's never seen Roy's place before, but just the glimpse through the door tells him everything he needs to know about how temporary Roy's assignment here is. </p><p>"There's a new restaurant on the other side of town," Jason says, raising a meaningful eyebrow. It's stakeout code that Dick taught him, and he's sort of hoping that Dick taught it to the Titans, too. By Roy's slight nod, he did. </p><p>"You tried it yet?" Roy asks. Jason shakes his head. </p><p>"Figured you might want to come along," he says. Roy's smile cracks into a grin. </p><p>"What if I don't <em>want</em> to?" </p><p>Jason narrows his eyes. Roy just grins wider. </p><p>"Then I'll have to wait until my next paycheck," Jason answers evenly, crossing his arms. "No skin off my nose." </p><p>"Oh, so you <em>need</em> someone to help pay?" Roy smirks. "Why didn't you just say so?" </p><p><em>You're dead</em>, Jason mouths to him. </p><p><em>You wish</em>, Roy mouths back. </p><p>"It might help if someone split the check," Jason admits. </p><p>Roy crosses his arms with a grin, one eyebrow cocked. </p><p>"So you wanna team up?" He asks. Jason sighs and drags a hand down his face, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. </p><p>"Yeah, I do." </p><p>Roy shoots a fist into the air. "Yes! Finally!" </p><p>"Shut up and get your shit or I'm doing it without you," Jason says, but Roy is too delighted to be affected by his faux frustration. "You got two minutes." </p><p>To Jason's surprise, Roy unzips his hoodie and whips it to the side, revealing the Arsenal outfit underneath. Jason doesn't even have time to gape before he grabs something from behind the door and steps out, a grin on his face. </p><p>"Good thing I was already packed," he says, and locks his front door. Jason blinks at the folded-up bow and quiver on his back - the hat and goggles are slung over some of the arrows. </p><p>"Do you ever take that uniform off?" He snarks instead, grabbing the hat to fit it on Roy's head. He tucks a few strands of hair behind his ear, and doesn't think about the fluttery feeling in his chest at Roy's soft smile. Which turns wicked a moment later. </p><p>"You know I take it off plenty." The goggles snap into place easily. </p><p>Roy's breath is violently minty when he kisses Jason in the elevator between Jason's coded debriefs about a warehouse in the corner of southeast Gotham. It's endearing, moreso than it should be, and Jason can't even blame the beat of his pulse on the bike ride over, especially not when Roy takes the spare helmet and swings on behind him, his hands curled tight on Jason's hips. </p><p>-- </p><p>"Explosions. And warehouses. It's - explosions in warehouses." </p><p>Roy looks up from the other side of the table, his brow furrowed gently in the middle. Jason clears his throat and stares numbly at the page of notes laid out in front of him. </p><p>"Crowbars, too," he says, much quieter. "If they're used as a - weapon." He swallows. "Those - trigger me." The word still tastes oddly formal in his mouth, repeated down from his old therapist and swished around until it lodged in his brain somewhere and he realises he's never actually said it out <em>loud</em> before. To anyone. </p><p>"Okay," Roy says simply, and nothing else. Like he doesn't expect an answer, like he's not <em>curious</em>. Jason glances up at him to find nothing but understanding on his face, serious and gentle all at the same time. It's a look Jason would hate to see on Bruce. He doesn't mind it so much on Roy. </p><p>"I...died in an explosion." He doesn't know why he's saying it. "In a warehouse." Roy never asks, and Jason never volunteers, but now it feels like it's bubbling up inside him, like if it doesn't spill out it'll burst. </p><p>It's not a conversation he knows how to even start, and sure as fuck doesn't know how to <em>carry on</em>, and <em>definitely</em> doesn't know how to end, but here he is, starting it and carrying it on and completely clueless on where to go from here. </p><p>"I couldn't get out," he says, whispers, chokes on imagined dusty warehouse air. The words come together like falling snowflakes, like settling ash, slow and gentle. "I, uh - " He never knows how to piece it together. Doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what to <em>do</em>. </p><p>Thankfully for him, Roy always seems to know how to pick up his pieces. The hand on his knee startles him, but Roy's low murmured <em>it's okay, Jase</em> doesn't. He looks quietly earnest, giving Jason room without pushing him through the door, and Jason appreciates it more than he can say. </p><p>"Just - warn me," he mumbles. "If you know about - anything. If I'm gonna see it, I want to know I'll see it." </p><p>Roy nods and strokes his knee with a slow, repetitive sweep of his thumb. Jason's eyes sting with unshed tears, but Roy doesn't comment when Jason wipes them away with shaking fingertips. He doesn't like remembering, and he doesn't like telling, but he wants Roy to know - wants Roy to hear it from <em>him</em>. </p><p>The stroking thumb is comforting. It helps ground him. For a moment, all he focuses on is the sound of skin against denim, the sensation of pressure, the calm in-outs of Roy's breathing. </p><p>"Mine's needles." </p><p>Jason doesn't register the words at first, then glances up at Roy with a questioning frown. Roy shrugs one shoulder, forcibly casual, but Jason can see the hard edge in his eyes, like pain and fear rolled into one. </p><p>"Since we're telling each other our triggers." Roy swallows and squeezes Jason's knee. "I don't like needles." </p><p>That's easy enough. The only needles they have a chance good at encountering are medical necessity, and they're not usually getting <em>that</em> banged up in the field, and - </p><p>Oh shit, there's needles in Jason's bathroom. He straightens a little and jerks a thumb towards the bathroom, but Roy beats him to speaking. </p><p>"They're - they're fine, now," he says, holding up a hand. "I was, uh. The first time I saw them it was...rough, but I'm better with them now." He nods in the direction of the bathroom with a wry smile. "Mostly I just try not to look at them. It's easier knowing what you need them for." </p><p>"I can put them in a box or something," Jason offers. Roy casts a considering glance his way, then nods. </p><p>"Thanks." </p><p>Now it's Jason's turn to wind a hand down to the one on his knee. He plucks Roy's fingers from the fabric and gently threads his own between them. Roy's palm is comfortably warm beside his. </p><p>"Heroin." Roy's gaze skitters away from their notes, studying a far point on the table. "I know you've probably already figured that out, but. It was heroin." </p><p>Jason doesn't know what to say, so he settles on what Roy did for him. Holds his hand a little tighter and looks at his profile and says "Okay." </p><p>Roy nods, his lips parting on a relieved exhale. </p><p>"So I don't - like seeing a lot of drugs, either," he adds. "Or people <em>taking</em> them." Squeezes Jason's hand, albeit shakily. "Kinda goes without saying, but warn me, too?" </p><p>"Of course," Jason murmurs, runs his thumb over Roy's knuckles, and Roy's eyes meet his once again, without the hard edge from before. </p><p>Roy offers him a quiet smile, and Jason automatically relaxes, squeezing Roy's hand once before letting his fingers slip away. The atmosphere feels lighter, somehow, buoyed by Roy's simple trust in him. </p><p>Despite the subject material, Jason finds himself fighting a smile when he turns back to their notes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the end, it comes down to a warehouse in far south Gotham, plugging a drug route straight through southeast. It has direct connections to the docks and just enough invested real estate to get overlooked by tax audits, although the handful of outbuildings that serve as security seem to be nearly completely empty when Jason and Roy get there. </p><p>There's a couple guards that they take down easily, and leave unconscious, zip-tied, and gagged in one of the outhouses. Roy detonates a quiet EMP that wipes out any security measures they could activate when they wake up, and Jason wedges the external door shut with a spare piece of gutter torn from the side. </p><p>Despite the massive red bow and the blatant disregard for any stealth clothing, Roy's impressively adept at stealth tactics. So much so that Jason finds himself glancing over his shoulder to check if Roy's actually <em>there</em> because he's so damn silent. Roy greets each look with a grin and sometimes a mock-salute, and his braces don't even <em>creak</em> with the movement. Jason's jacket squeaks in the shoulders when he starts to climb up the side of the warehouse - he's got to find out what the fuck the Titans' uniforms are made of. Roy's carrying a bow and a quiver and he's as silent as the fucking <em>wind</em> on Jason's heels. </p><p>The roof is a collection of perilously attached corrugated metal panels, stained with bird shit and rust, and it squeals whenever they step on a loose corner. In the middle, there's a skylight, a vanity project the gang below is about to regret - Jason gestures military to Roy to get into position on the other side. </p><p>"Can you see him?" He asks over the comms, crouching to eye up the number of people inside best. From his vantage point, he can only see about a quarter of the warehouse, where a few thugs are milling around, guns in hand. Roy squints, all seriousness. </p><p>"Yeah," he murmurs. "Neck tattoo." </p><p>"They're all armed." </p><p>"Good thing we are, too, then." </p><p>Jason pauses, glancing up at Roy. He doesn't know what hesitates inside him, whether it's the fact this is <em>planned</em> versus their usual improvisation, or maybe that they're about to dip into a serious, firearmed threat, and he <em>cares</em> for Roy. </p><p>"I - You ready?" He asks, his breath wavering somewhere in the middle. Roy gives him a look, a fond little smile edging up the corner of his mouth. </p><p>"I care about you, too," he says. Jason's abruptly glad for the helmet so Roy can't see his cheeks colour. </p><p>Roy's smile stretches into a grin like he can see it anyway. "Ready when you are." </p><p>Jason clears his throat and nods, fighting down a smile as he unholsters a pistol and a smoke grenade. Roy slides something small and round across the skylight, holding up a remote as it drifts to a neat stop in the middle of the glass. </p><p>Roy counts softly under his breath. "3. 2. 1 - " </p><p>The detonation is silent, but the shattering glass is <em>loud</em>, almost deafening if Jason didn't have the helmet and Roy didn't have earplugs. It showers down in shards over the abrupt yelling below, and Jason launches the smoke grenade seconds before swinging down to join the fray, diving in feet-first and hitting something that <em>cracks</em> wetly. Probably an elbow, by the size. </p><p>As always, the warehouse seems so much bigger from the inside than outside. The smoke is blooming up towards the open skylight, where Roy is still crouched, aiming and shooting with a quickness that makes Jason's bullets jealous. </p><p>But Jason's job is distraction. He can't let them start firing at the roof, so he starts unloading chambers into the smoke at foot level, hears a few piercing shrieks that let him know he's hit a couple shins. As expected, a wide spray of bullets veers towards him, flashpoints in the hazy smoke screen - Jason's helmet automatically switches to his heat vision, and he finds his first target a moment later. </p><p>The fighting goes as fighting usually goes. Jason cracks the butt of his pistol on someone's head, whirls around to kick another's abdomen, gets hands ripping at his shoulders, his arms, and gunfire chewing up the ground below him but he's winning out so far. He wrangles the hands off, snaps them at the wrists, pushes them back into the smoke and shoots the gunman in the shoulders - behind him, a wet squelch alerts him to a new enemy, already fallen. The arrow pins him to the floor through his arm like a frog dissection, and his screaming joins the general chaos swirling in the smoke. </p><p>"Find them! Kill them!" Barked orders, likely the leader - but not Jason's priority yet. There's no way out of the warehouse without detonating one of Roy's traps, and he's just distracting - </p><p>"On the roof! There's one on the roof!" </p><p>Time's up. The smoke has dissipated enough for them to shoot <em>accurately</em> at Roy, bullets ricocheting off the metal roof - Roy wheels backwards and out of view, although he breathes a reassurance into Jason's ear before Jason can ask if he was hit. </p><p>"You got bigger problems than the roof," Jason growls, and elbows a thug in the throat. They drop, and his steel toe to the stomach dissuades any further attempts of fighting back. They're not paid enough for that. </p><p>Unfortunately, they're paid enough to try. And the smoke is gone. Jason shouts at the new burst of gunfire and dives behind one of the pallets - <em>drug</em> pallets, he realises, when he's close enough to see the packets of white powder. They explode into the air with each bullet, a fine dust that settles on the floor and the downed thugs while the current throng tries to gun Jason down. </p><p>Above the group, a flash of red. Jason slams a new magazine in and shoots <em>back</em>, but now he's hitting Kevlar. At least some of them are smart. He's just nailing someone in the foot when Roy swings in to join him, embedding a flurry of arrows into their backs. </p><p>"Hey, assholes, I'm here, too!" he yells, and is subsequently drowned out by the gunfire. Jason can hear him breathing steadily in his ear, though, so he's not too worried when he gets the opportunity to come out of cover and start bodily taking some of the guys down. On the other side, Roy sprints to avoid bullets, notching three arrows at once and sinking them into three separate people <em>effortlessly</em>. It's a little hot. </p><p>Roy vaults over pallets and pushes off of the wall while Jason fights close-range, ripping up someone's knee with point blank and fracturing another's forearm over his shoulder. It's disgusting, but necessary. Neck tattoo guy - the boss, Nick Last-name-Jason-didn't-bother-to-learn, is holding his own with another group, covering when they reload and shouting orders when they shoot. The guns get blasted from their hands moments later with a series of small-charge arrows. </p><p>Someone claws at Jason's jacket and stops him short, yanking him down to crash on the floor with a pained groan - his helmet smacks the concrete, but the padding protects his head. His pistol slips from his fingers, skidding away underfoot before a boot crushes his forearm. </p><p>He screams, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. The thug's face twists into a nasty grin. </p><p>Jason scrambles for enough presence of mind - <em>work past it, push it aside</em> - to retaliate, and only gets as far as kicking his legs up to try and stand before a wall of red slams the thug in the chest. Jason yanks his hand back, rolling his wrist to test the bones - nothing broken, thank <em>god</em> - and unholstering his second pistol. White smoke suddenly spirals up and then a hand appears above him, fingers beckoning with a wiggle. </p><p>"You okay?" Roy asks as he hauls him up, fluid and strong and <em>wow</em> Jason needs to get a handle on his libido here. His biceps flex when he notches another three arrows, held tight between his knuckles. </p><p>"Yeah, I'm - I'm good, thanks," he pants, rolls his wrist again and cocks his new pistol. </p><p>"Hood, my eyes are up here."  The smoke mask over Roy's nose and mouth is slightly translucent, so Jason can see the smirk that accompanies that. </p><p>"And you can't shoot in this smoke." </p><p>"Nope," Roy agrees, and shoots his three arrows without looking, By the alarmed shouts, he's hit <em>something</em>. Then, to Jason's surprise, he stows the bow on his back and grins. "Lead the way." </p><p>"Lead the - okay. Okay." Jason mutters it - still loud enough for Roy to hear, judging by his chuckle - and switches on the thermal vision. </p><p>It's looking better than when they started. Jason's usually one for fists and fire, but having a tactical sniper covering him has done them a whole lot of favours - with the details in the imaging, Jason can tell Roy's taken out the rest of the guns, and the guards that are left are pacing in place, probably waiting for the enemy to come to <em>them</em>. </p><p>Jason singles one out and does, indeed, go to them. </p><p>Jason's fought a lot of fights. He's fought with a lot of allies, he's worked in multiple pairs, he's done <em>fights</em>. He's been the bite to Batman's bark, he's been back-to-back with Dick, he's matched Tim blow for blow against a wall of Riddler bots, he's left his life in Steph's hands more times than he can count. He's seamless with the Bats, when it matters. </p><p>So far, he's only seen Roy in long-range fights, or as belated back-up to Jason's street fights, dropping in to shoot a few arrows and help him cuff and run. He's an <em>amazing</em> shot, even with the dingy little crossbow he keeps in the base of the quiver for "emergencies" but seems to only bring out to make Jason playfully despair, and he's worked well alongside Jason so far. He's missed having someone on his back. </p><p>But Roy without the bow? Is an <em>entirely</em> different beast. Jason honestly doesn't know what he was expecting, can't think about it fast enough through the punches he's blocking and dishing out in equal measure - they've made enough noise to alert the guards, who are all rushing on them now in some sort of attempt to overwhelm them. With anyone else, they might be successful. But Jason's all bite and Roy's a <em>surprisingly</em> dirty fighter, all fingers in hair and knees in sensitive places and crashing against Jason's back to help shock-absorb the hits. </p><p>Jason thinks he was probably expecting basic Titans training, which probably stemmed largely from Bruce through Dick, so mostly the heavy duty wrestling moves. Landing nonlethal punches, flipping your opponent, taking them out with their own strength sort of moves. But Roy is <em>nothing</em> like Bruce, nothing like Dick's improv - no, he's - he's <em>brutal</em> in a way Jason didn't expect, throwing his strength into every assault like he's personally inviting the guards to smash their noses on his knee. </p><p>It blends well with Jason's style. He'll deflect, bounce them off his forearms and shove them around to Roy, and every so often Roy will dodge and tangle his fingers in someone's hair to swing them to Jason, who promptly kicks them in the gut. It's smooth in a way Jason hasn't experienced since working with Cass, and it's...yeah, he likes it. It works, it works <em>well</em>, and it works even when the smoke clears and the wet thunk of arrows starts sounding off behind him, just twice, before they're alone, panting for air surrounded by a circle of unconscious and groaning bodies. A few men cough and hack up phlegm, downed by the smoke before they could even fight. </p><p>No fatalities, though, so Jason counts that as a win. These guys may be scummy, but they aren't paid enough to die. </p><p>"You little <em>rats</em>." </p><p>Jason looks up automatically at the voice, his arm snapping up with his pistol a split-second later. Roy's bow draws with the quietest creak beside him. </p><p>Nick Last-name-Jason-didn't-bother-to-learn stands alone, a mean snarl on his face and an SMG in his arms. There's an arrow sticking out the of the barrel from earlier. The pallets of drugs around them are half demolished, torn apart in the fighting. </p><p>Jason smirks. "You gonna get on your knees and put your hands behind your head or make me do it for you?" </p><p>Nick narrows his eyes. His tattoo flexes with the tensing of his jaw, a ripple of ink cast in shadow. </p><p>"Really, I'd recommend doing it yourself," Roy says lightly. "Means you'll save on your hospital bills, and trust us, you'll <em>need</em> the money. Lawyers willing to defend you aren't cheap." </p><p>Nick doesn't move, but his gaze wavers, flicking from Jason to Roy and back again. </p><p>"I'm happy to do it," Jason says, and takes a step forward - Nick crumbles like a house of cards, unceremoniously dropping the SMG to sink to his knees, fingers linking behind his head. Jason always likes when they go easy. He unhooks the cuffs from his belt with a grin, and approaches Nick while Roy pulls out a pack of zip ties to start rounding up the downed thugs.</p><p>Nick grunts when Jason crosses his wrists at the small of his back, tension tightening his shoulders, as if he wants to break out of the hold. Jason curls his fingers around Nick's wrist and leans down to speak in his ear, letting the modulator pitch him deep and mechanised. </p><p>"Careful, or I'll snap it," he growls, pushing his thumb against the sensitive vein just hard enough to make Nick squirm. His shoulders relax a moment later. </p><p>"Good boy," Jason says, grins when Nick bristles at the words, but he doesn't try to fight the click of the cuffs. </p><p>The minutes pass in silence while Jason knocks Nick out and joins Roy in tying up the others. Most are cooperative, and the ones that aren't end up sleeping peacefully underneath Jason's fist a moment later. The scattered guns get piled into the middle, magazines ejected and stashed in a separate heap. </p><p>With all the thugs downed and cuffed, there's not much left to do except call the cops. But Jason has one thing left on his to-do list. He slips the lighter out of his pocket - miraculously still in one piece - and heads over to one of the drug pallets in the corner. A few packets have been ripped open by bullets, white powder spilling over the floor and layering it in a fine dust. The cardboard wrapping on the pallets will act as enough kindling, and the wooden pallet base should keep it going, although Jason's got accelerant stowed in his jacket that'll help things along should he need it. He thumbs the lighter to flick it on. </p><p>Roy removes his smoke mask with a sigh and comes to a stop beside Jason, adjusting his cap to rake sweaty hair off of his face. Something odd pulses in Jason's veins, something more potent than relief, at seeing Roy alive and mostly uninjured. He's got a few scrapes on his exposed arms, a bruise colouring up under his jaw, but he's <em>okay</em>. </p><p>Jason pauses, the flame flickering in the draft. Bruce would leave the drugs for the police to handle. To dispose of. Dick would do the same. Contact Jim and get it rightfully sorted. </p><p>The Titans would do that. The <em>Titans</em>, and there's one of them standing right in front of Jason, bow stowed and shoulders rising and falling steadily with his steadying breath, a determined set to his mouth and a prepared tension in his muscles. It strikes Jason in that moment that Roy is far more than just his teammate - his <em>boyfriend</em>. More than just Arsenal, more than - he's a <em>Titan</em>, and he's worked with the <em>League</em>, and rules are what keep their names clear in the murky ethics of the world. Roy is so, so much more than Jason's corner of Gotham, and it hurts and awes him all at the same time. </p><p>He flicks the lighter off. Roy makes a puzzled noise in the back of his throat. </p><p>"You - Batman would leave it to the cops," Jason says. Swallows, tries to meet Roy's eyes through the helmet, knows Roy just sees blank impassivity. "You guys would leave it to the authorities." </p><p>Roy frowns. "'You guys'?" </p><p>Jason glances at the pallet and swallows. "The good guys. The <em>League</em>, the Titans, the - <em>you</em>. You need to keep your reputation clean. You wouldn't burn it." </p><p>"Good guys." Roy's voice is flat, unimpressed. But the lines in his face gentle underneath the soot and the dirt, and Jason feels impossibly aching, impossibly vast, cracked open under Roy's gaze. It should make him feel uncomfortable, but for once, he doesn't feel anything at all. </p><p>"Then what are you?" Roy asks, simple and plain and as if the most complicated question in Jason's life is something that can be answered with a word. </p><p>"I'm wanted in this entire city," Jason replies. "And so are you until - until we get you cleared." </p><p>"You want to tell me you're shutting down entire drug operations and you don't think you're a good guy?" </p><p>"There's too much evidence of you here, so we need to play by the book." </p><p>"How about you try answering my question, Hood?" Roy doesn't mean it unkindly, but the earnestness on his face makes something swell up in Jason's chest that scares him down to the soles. </p><p>Jason glances away. </p><p>"I'm telling you I'm trying to keep <em>your</em> name clear," he says. Titans. League. Roy is too good for the kind of work Jason does - <em>good</em> work, sure, but he knows where he stands. Wanted poster in the precinct, no matter how many operations he brings down. No matter how many lives he saves. The book wants order and authority, and Jason's always hated cages. </p><p>"I'm telling you I don't <em>care</em>." Roy jerks his chin to the pallet. "Burn it." </p><p>"Arsenal - " </p><p>"Hood." Roy fixes him with a piercing gaze, equal parts stern and honest. "Burn the damn drugs." </p><p>Jason does. Roy steps closer to him, strangely transfixed by the fire licking up the side of the pallet. Plastic melts and drips, blending into the blaze slowly devouring the packets. Soon enough, the surrounding cardboard and closet stacked pallets will catch fire, embers sparking, and their job will be done. </p><p>"Don't tell Bruce I said this, but I like your way anyway," Roy says, while the flames flit and flicker over their shadows. </p><p>Jason turns his head just enough to see Roy out of the corner of his helmet vision. Something bumps against his hand, startling him - Roy puffs out a laugh, and his fingers hook around two of Jason's. </p><p>Something warmer than the fire blooms in Jason's chest, underneath his ribs, nestled between his lungs, threatening to bubble up and spill from his lips. He could say, <em>should</em> say, could open his mouth and tell Roy how much he - </p><p>Roy flashes him a warm, <em>familiar</em> grin, and the words vanish from Jason's tongue. Instead, he steps in to close the gap and slides his hand around so they're palm to palm. The gloves make it bulky and awkward, but Roy's fingers wiggle between his moments later. </p><p>Calling the cops can wait just a few more minutes, Jason decides. </p><p>-- </p><p>Roy collapses on his back with a laugh, his smile lazy and content as he stretches his arm above his head. Jason wipes his mouth with his wrist and crawls up to flop beside him, still trying to catch his breath. </p><p>It's not his post-mission routine, he'll be honest, but Roy had suggested takeout, and Jason had suggested his place, and it was practically inevitable from there, like magnets. Roy's hair spills onto the pillow in clumped, unbrushed strands, shoved away from his face with a clumsy hand. </p><p>"Guess we're going to need that second shower," Jason says, but he can't stop <em>staring</em> at Roy, stretched out in his bed like he <em>belongs</em> there - and maybe he does, a treacherous voice whispers to him - flushed and smiling and everything Jason's ever dreamed of. </p><p>"Oh, definitely," Roy agrees, pushing his hands underneath his head. "Fuck, if I wasn't tired before." </p><p>"I'll let you go first." </p><p>"You let me go first last time." </p><p>"Yeah." Jason doesn't offer anything more, folding his hands on his chest while Roy giggles. </p><p>With the case wrapped up, there's a sense of finality in the air, something serious settling in atmosphere. The Batcave report weighs on Jason's mind as a reminder, and Roy probably has to report to the Titans, although god knows why they were interested in a drug bust in the first place - </p><p>"Why were you on this case anyway?" The words slip out before he can think twice, but...well, it's an answer he'd like to know. </p><p>"Eh, we thought it connected to someone we were tracking." Roy waves a dismissive hand. Jason rolls onto his side. </p><p>"And? Was it?" He asks when Roy doesn't offer more information. </p><p>"No." Roy's eyes are subdued in the dim room, muted by the dull blue-grey blanketing them. </p><p>"Sorry." </p><p>Roy shrugs, easy, fluid, sharp in the edges like everything else about him. "No problem. I already knew that." </p><p>Jason pauses, brow furrowing as he parses Roy's words. "Already?" </p><p>"Well, yeah. I figured it out about a month ago and reported back." </p><p>"A month - " Jason frowns. "A <em>month</em> ago." And Jason met him two months ago, which means - </p><p>"You stayed," he says dumbly. Roy hums in acknowledgement. </p><p>"You - <em>why</em>?" Jason's had a lot of allies and a lot of enemies, and neither have stuck around long once they realised what sort of reputational grave he's dug for himself here. How dirty his hands are, how far he's willing to go. </p><p>"Of course I stayed," Roy answers, normal, even, <em>steady</em>, like it's a no-brainer. His smiles hikes up in the corner. "Wasn't about to start something I couldn't finish." </p><p>Jason sits on the words for a long moment. He knew this was coming, he <em>knew</em>, and yet admitting it still feels like chewing glass. </p><p>"And now the case is over," he says, states, lets his gaze drop to the creases in his sheets. </p><p>Roy stays silent for seconds that drag out like taffy, something heavy and dense growing between them with each mute beat. </p><p>"I wasn't talking about the case," Roy says. When Jason lifts his gaze, eyebrows travelling swiftly up in surprise, Roy's staring at the ceiling, something untold in the lines of his face. It feels absurdly fragile like this, mostly naked - <em>entirely </em>naked on Roy's part - and untangled in Jason's single bed, his scalp still tingling from Roy's nails. </p><p>"You have to go back to Manhattan," Jason ventures. Roy closes his eyes. </p><p>"I know," he whispers. "I know, and." His throat bobs. </p><p>Jason imagines leaning over, imagines dipping down to brush his lips against Roy's, so familiar and yet so different from all the other times. He wants so much it <em>aches</em>, wants to press sentiment into Roy's skin and keep it there with his fingerprints, wants to let the words bubble and spill, let them pour themselves into Roy's mouth, into his throat, and maybe, hopefully, hear them back just as fondly. </p><p>"You have the Titans," Jason says. He's always been good at taking the step back, always good at pushing people away, always good at keeping his <em>distance</em>, and this time should be no different than when he all-but-disowned Dick. </p><p>"Yeah," Roy agrees softly. His eyes crack open to glance at Jason. Resignation tightens their corners. "But I also have you." </p><p>And it's entirely different because Roy digs into the soft spots between Jason's ribs like he doesn't even know he's doing it. Jason's family rallies for him, but Roy is quietly accepting, and somehow that reluctance hurts worse. </p><p>Jason closes his eyes. It's the only way he can say what he needs to, because otherwise he'll crumble under the achingly fond look in Roy's eyes. For a moment he wishes for nothing but the silvery moonlight and Roy's warm skin under his palms, the curve of his jaw embedded in the heel of his hand, the scrape of stubble against his thumbs. </p><p>"I have to go back," Roy murmurs. </p><p>"You have to go back," Jason repeats. Slow. Careful. Measured. <em>I don't want you to</em> catches in his throat. </p><p>Roy remains damningly silent. Then he abruptly inhales, hitched and sharp, and pushes himself up. Jason keeps his eyes firmly shut. </p><p>"I don't - " Roy starts, and stops, and Jason can <em>feel</em> his hand hovering over his side, fingertips just barely brushing his shirt. "I <em>can't</em> - " his hand disappears with a grunt of frustration. "Jason." </p><p>And just that. His name, as if it held all the secrets of the world. </p><p>"Roy," he replies, equally quiet, equally fond, equally weighted. </p><p>"I can't stay." Roy's voice wobbles with regret, with resignation. A lump forms in Jason's throat. He <em>knew</em> this was coming. Shouldn't have let himself get so wrapped up - </p><p>"I want you to," he admits. Sucks in a breath and releases it with a shake. Forces a faint smile. "Isn't there a saying about that? Letting someone go?" </p><p>Roy chuckles humourlessly. "Yeah. That only works if you love them." </p><p>"I do." Jason opens his eyes. His cheeks burn, hotter the longer Roy stares at him, blinking like he can't quite comprehend why Jason would lo - would feel like <em>that</em> about <em>him</em>. As if Jason had any choice in the matter, like he'd choose anything else, any<em>one</em> else. </p><p>"I - " Roy falters, looks down at his hands, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jason's heart thrashes in his chest, caught between hesitation and elation. </p><p>Jason chews his glass, swallows the shards, and tears his heart in two before he can think better of it. </p><p>"But you can't stay," he says. "I know, I - <em>knew</em> that, when you...first got here." He lays a hand on Roy's wrist, selfishly curls his fingers to press against his pulse. "I get it, Roy, I really do. The job comes first." </p><p>"Well, you have my number," Roy jokes weakly, flashing him a shaky smile. </p><p>Both of them knows what happens with just <em>numbers</em>. Jason isn't nomad. Roy handles cases all over the world. Jason barely manages to see Dick regularly, and he's just a city over.  </p><p>"Yeah, I do," he answers. Roy nods. </p><p>"I should go," he says a moment later, pushing forward to climb over Jason and get out of the bed. "I've got reports to send back to the Titans." </p><p>"Yeah, I should - file mine, too," Jason says numbly. It's best that Roy leaves now, it's what Jason would have suggested, but it still <em>hurts</em> to watch him get dressed, all neat tucks and quick ties on the clasps of his armour. Anonymous and swift, like he's just a visitor. </p><p>Jason lamely reaches for his discarded sweats to pull them on, just so he's not half naked when Roy turns around to look at him, something soft and forlorn in the slant of his eyebrows. He studies Jason like he's memorising him, committing the shadows of Jason's bedroom to something more than just passing experience. </p><p>"Roy - " "Jason - " </p><p>Jason chuckles a little awkwardly at the overlap, and Roy smiles with a half-laugh, an echo of fondness in its curve. </p><p>"I'm gonna go," Roy says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Keep in touch?" </p><p>"You're only in New York," Jason replies, his tongue thick with promises he can't keep. "Text me when you get there." </p><p>Roy nods, gathers up his gear, and leaves with a few more parting words, and none of them <em>goodbye</em>. </p><p>Jason rolls over into the space Roy left behind, tucks his nose into Roy's pillow, and tries to ignore the pulsing ache in his chest. </p><p>-- </p><p>Jason tries not to think about it the next morning. He gets up, gets dressed, does his shot, wraps his aching wrist, putters around his kitchen to throw together something that'll count as an easy breakfast. It ends up being fruit and yoghurt in the blender Steph got him for his birthday last year - an oddly <em>fancy</em> blender, likely bought with Bruce's money, with more buttons than Jason knows what to do with. </p><p>Outside, the city wakes up in increments. Traffic slowly increases in the span of the half hour Jason takes to drink his smoothie, crescendoing with the familiar rush hour horns and early shift sirens. Junk mail lands on his floor, only for him to sweep it up and dump it in the wastebasket by the entry table. Red Hood doesn't have any business until tonight, but it's probably worth it for Jason to make an appearance just so Bruce knows he's still alive. Anyway, he needs new ammo after last night. </p><p>He steps out of the front door and locks it behind him with more force than strictly necessary, and turns around to - </p><p>Usually, Jason doesn't take much stock in people hanging around the streets near his apartment, half because they're usually just civilians and half because he is more than capable of protecting himself. </p><p>But this time, it's not the mailman, or a street sweeper, or even someone on a shortcut to the business sector. </p><p>Jason crosses his arms and leans against his front door. </p><p>"Thought you were long gone by now," he says. </p><p>Roy levels him with a piercing, curious look before glancing away, focusing on the brick wall beside Jason. He's dressed civilian today, would be practically incognito if Jason didn't know the shape of him through touch alone. He's leaning against an inconspicuous blue car, packed with cardboard boxes haphazard in the backseat. </p><p>"So did I," Roy replies with a wry smile. He turns back to Jason. "But the thing about long drives is, it gives you time to think." </p><p>"Roy - " </p><p>"Hey, look, any other time, yes, but right now, I - " Roy shoves his hands in his pockets, and it's only then that Jason realises what his uncharacteristic quietness means. He's <em>nervous</em>. </p><p>"- I've kinda been trying to figure out what to say the whole way back, and I don't want to mess it up," Roy finishes. </p><p>Jason gestures a <em>go on</em> to him, trying to act more casual than he feels. Roy looks out at the quiet street and blows hair out of his face. </p><p>"Last night." Roy's jaw flexes. "Last night, before I left, you said you - " he cuts off with a frustrated grunt, shoving a hand through his hair before he meets Jason's eyes again. </p><p>"I got halfway to Manhattan before turning back," he says, something serious and defiant in his voice. "If you love someone, let them go, right? And you said you <em>do</em>, and you <em>did</em>, and - and." He sighs in a quiet exhale, shoulders deflating. "And I don't know what to fuckin' say. I love you. I came back. I don't want to go by the League rulebook. I don't want to play by someone else's rules. I want to <em>help</em>, I want...I want to stay here, with you." </p><p>Jason's heart wrenches in his chest at the plain, eager <em>honesty</em> in Roy's words, the frown tugging at the corner of his lips - his fingers itch to curl around Roy's shoulders, ache to fit him in in the hollow of his chest and his stomach, in the space Roy left behind last night - </p><p>"I like your way," Roy says. Simply, plainly, like Jason isn't a wanted man for <em>his way</em>. "I don't want to keep handing to the authorities, I want to actually make a <em>difference</em> when it's not the fucking apocalypse." </p><p>Roy waves a dismissive hand and looks at the ground. "That's all I had. You can - speak or whatever now." </p><p>Jason struggles to make his mouth work. His tongue feels thick, clumsy, and his ribs feel too tight, closing and claustrophobic and crushing around the vice of his heart. </p><p>"Can you just say that first part again?" He asks dumbly. Roy lifts his eyes to meet Jason's, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. </p><p>"I was halfway to New York?" He asks, <em>teases</em>, with an eyebrow raised. "I came back?" </p><p>"The - other part." </p><p>"I love you?" The smile teasing at Roy's lips cracks into a full grin. The words wind Jason all over again in the best way, and the vice of his ribs loosens just a little bit. </p><p>"I should've said it earlier," Roy says, straightening up when Jason strides towards him. "Jase, I should've said it <em>weeks </em>ago, I just didn't - " </p><p>Roy's jaw is warm under Jason's fingertips, familiar in the cup of his palm. </p><p>"Shut up, I love you, too," Jason murmurs, and kisses him. </p><p>In open daylight, it feels almost <em>forbidden</em>, but Roy fists his hands in Jason's shirt and kisses right back, bracketing Jason's legs between his knees. Jason doesn't know how to voice it, this nameless, dangerous sentiment coiling inside of him, but after all that, he owes it to Roy to <em>try</em>. </p><p>"You would have heard it back," he mumbles, his breath curling hot between them. "If you said it." </p><p>In response, Roy just kisses him again, a relieved sigh filling the space - Jason doesn't know who from, but he doesn't care when Roy's fingers press gentle to his jaw, touch fond to his cheek, effortlessly urging him back in for more, like the push-pull of the ocean, like melting and reforming. </p><p>Eventually, they have to part for breath. Reluctant to go far, Jason rests his forehead against Roy's, his stomach still caught somewhere in free fall. </p><p>"I'm surprised you haven't mentioned anything about my damaged reputation yet," Roy murmurs. </p><p>"They've still only got a sketch for your poster," Jason replies, and smiles all over again at the sound of Roy's laughter. </p><p>"And it's not even my good side." </p><p>"Mhmm." </p><p>Silence sits comfortably now, like a warm blanket hiding them from the world. Jason has neighbours, and he hasn't thought of them <em>once</em>. </p><p>"Are you sure?" He asks, dropping his hands to hold Roy's, run his thumbs over the callouses between index and middle fingers. "I won't - I won't judge if you aren't. </p><p>"And let you pitch without a catcher?" Roy grins at Jason's snort. "I'm sure." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm over at <a>halifax-jordan</a> on Tumblr!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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